


The Way I Was Before

by mibi_chan



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 10:48:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mibi_chan/pseuds/mibi_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bulma and Vejiita make an arduous journey through the barriers of a dark past, finding that change is the hardest constant of all.  Pre/Post Majin Timelines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eyes of a Warrior

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Enjoy "The Way I Was Before"! This is a (mostly) canon tale I concocted lo these many years ago, and is the very first I'd ever done. It's been over a decade now since I wrote this. I focused on the pre-Buu era a bit because at the time I felt that it was a period of missing time that hadn't yet been explored very thoroughly.
> 
> I hope you can find some B/V emotional clarity from this fic. I enjoyed writing it those years ago, and I hope you enjoy reading it!
> 
> Of course, I do not and have never made any profit off of the lovely characters of Akira Toriyama's Dragonball Universe. ^_^ 
> 
> Ok I'm done!

Chapter One

 

~~        The birds did not sing this morning when I awoke.  My alarm went off promptly at 6:45 A.M., rousing me from a fitful sleep plagued by dreams that still haunted me.  As usual, the sheets next to me were cold.  The man I call my husband had probably been awake over an hour before me.  He does that quite often.  After living with him for nearly ten years now, I suppose I should be used to it.  But there is a nagging voice in my head that rejects his obvious neglect

            Our son, nearing the age of nine, craves attention from his father like any boy would.  But there is a burning desire in Trunks's eyes that rivals his father's.  Within those beautiful blue depths that mirror my own, I can see the need that very much reminds me of Vejiita; the need to be the best. . .the need for superiority and achievement in all things.  But the most important has always been power.  It is frightening to see my demi-Saiya-jin son with the same wild look in his eyes as that of his ancestors, but I have come to the conclusion that there is little I can do to suppress his warrior instinct.

            Vejiita and Trunks have been training together since the boy was old enough to walk.  But with the Budoukai fast approaching, they've been up at dawn nearly every day.  Two days ago, as I was returning from my office, I saw a golden light shoot from the small windows of the gravity simulation room.  Startled, I dropped my things on the sitting room carpet and rushed over to look inside.  When I could see the room clearly through the dense light I knew…that look of hunger would never die from either of their faces.

            Vejiita had stood, opposite my view, never blinking once as he gazed at his nine-year-old son; surrounded by the golden hue of the legendary Super Saiya-jin.       ~~

 

            Bulma Briefs eased the grip on her pen and closed her journal.  Slowly, she pushed the worn book into its place in the top drawer of her office desk.  Glancing around, she decided that her office walls were entirely too bleak, and that since four o'clock P.M. had come and gone, it was time to leave.

            Gathering her things, she looked around the office once more-decided things were in order-and left.  Her long legs carried her down the huge flight of stairs that cornered off her work area from the other employees and sealed her off from the usual headaches of the day. . .but only temporarily.  When she reached the reception area of Capsule Corporation, the secretary at the desk waved to her.

            "Goodnight, Miss Briefs!"

            "Goodnight, Sherie!" She called to the woman, quirking her mouth as she realized that she had never changed her name in the ten years she had been married(?).  But then again. . .what could she possibly have changed her name to?  Vejiita had no family name that she was aware of, and calling him by the planet he was from simply struck her as ludicrous _. S_ he snickered to herself and continued on her course to the parking lot.

            Once out in the open, and glancing around to make sure she had enough room, she reached into her pocket and retrieved a small, cylindrical object better known to all of Japan--all the world now--as a capsule™.  The trademark had finally been added after Bulma's father had revolutionized the world of accessory and encapsulated several objects using a shrinking and condensing compound he had formulated.  Bulma pressed her thumb to the small button that sat on the rounded edge of each capsule and threw it to the ground before her.  After a small explosion and a quick whiff of smoke, her car appeared and she threw her bag into the passenger seat.

            Sighing heavily as she plopped in back of the steering wheel, Bulma took a quick glance in the rear view mirror.  Grinning to herself, she flicked a few strands of azure shaded hair away from her face.  She liked it short. . .she intended to keep it that way now.  Admitting that she still looked young for her age, she managed to frown at the slight fade of her brightly colored hair.  Speeding off towards her home, which now only sat five blocks from Capsule Corporation itself, she wondered suddenly why she never walked to work.  Perhaps it was the drone of traffic and the difficulty of actually crossing the street on appendages called feet that humans seemed to have abandoned recently.

            Bulma mused about her life as she made the slow, yet short trip home.  There had been a change in her husband recently, and she wasn't sure she enjoyed it.  Vejiita had always been a cold, emotionless man who rarely expressed himself in words or expressions other than that deep, characteristic scowl he always wore.  But there had been times when they'd been alone. . .times when they'd touched that no one else had witnessed but she. . .times when the burning insistence of his body was all she needed to reassure herself that he cared--that perhaps he loved her.  Those times were rare, but they had still occurred on a regular basis no less than five months ago.  But during the course of the succeeding months Vejiita had become even more detached than usual, and it troubled her deepest emotions as well as the surface of her heart.  Bulma sighed as she pulled into her driveway, hearing a large rumble from inside the domed building. . .** _what a surprise. . .they're training.**_

            There was no way that anything Bulma said could ever get through to Vejiita, especially when it came to training.  But she had suddenly been determined to at least have it out with him--to query him as to why he felt the need to ignore and neglect her.  Perhaps it would accumulate nothing, but there was always a slim chance.

 


	2. How Do You Do It?

Chapter Two

 

            Tonight's meal had been simple; a slice of salmon steak (thin of course) with a side of potatoes and carrots.  Bulma did enjoy her vegetables . . .more so than the average meat product.  She had long since made the dinner, and Trunks had appeared in the kitchen around six thirty P.M. to eat it.  He was always most talkative after a day of training with his father, and he usually looked forward to his meals with Bulma.  He would come bounding into the kitchen after being inside the GSR for hours and announce that he was going to take a shower.  Trunks was quite independent for his age, and Bulma was quite proud of that.

            After a quick shower, he'd come racing back into the kitchen and plopped himself in the chair across from his mother.

            "What's for dinner, Mom?" He had asked that evening in usual tone.  She had glanced up from reading her book and smiled, eyes brightening,

            "Salmon, Trunks . . .you like fish, right?"

            Her little boy had nodded, a ravenous look overtaking his soft features.

            "Definitely, Mom.  So-uh-how was work for you today?"

            Bulma quietly got up from the table and went to the stove to check on the fish.  Gripping her spatula, she shrugged.

            "Oh, you know, sweetie . . .the same old stuff.  I did a lot of reading today because of the new business that called me the other day.  You remember?" Bulma tried to simplify the plans to buy out the small, Chinese based Software Company Mae-Ling Tech, Co. to her small son.  Capsule Corp. had decided, reluctantly, to buy out their stock and lease them rights to produce a small amount of capsules to distribute their products.  Over much deliberation, Bulma had finally decided that since they were about to go out of business anyway, perhaps it was a good idea to market the products under the Capsule Corp. logo.  She saw Trunks nod out of the corner of her eye.

            "Yeah, Mom, I remember . . ." He replied, his voice curiously fading out.  That only happened when . . .

            Bulma turned slightly to replace the spatula on her spoon rest.  A flame of black hair caught her eye, and she turned fully around to see her husband--bending down into the refrigerator.  The black of his shorts was all she could see, and she raised an eyebrow as he rummaged around in the appliance.  A muttered curse came from behind the door when he dropped something and she rolled her eyes.  Finally, Vejiita stood up and shut the refrigerator door, sniffled in what seemed like defiance and took a swig from the water bottle he'd retrieved.  Bulma watched as Trunks gazed at his father in some kind of trance-like state.   _He holds him in such reverence . . ._

            Vejiita did not make eye contact with her as she continued to stare at him, obvious annoyance filling her oceanic eyes.  Suddenly, she felt a bubble form in her chest as he flung open the pantry door and grabbed a protein bar out of the huge supply she'd attained from the vitamin shop in town.  Vejiita moved about the kitchen, oblivious to the fact that his family sat before him.  His princely arrogance certainly hadn't faded through the years . . .but Bulma's tolerance for it had.  The bubble did not dissipate as he continued to ignore every other living person in the room, and Bulma felt her eyes narrow as he turned to exit the kitchen.  Her voice exploded from her throat like a fountain of lead.

            "Wouldn't you like some dinner,  _Ouji-sama?_ "

            The title left her quivering lips like a mocking nickname rather than the respectful air it should have contained, and she saw him stop dead in his tracks.  The muscles on his back seemed to twitch with supreme ire, and his neck twisted slowly backwards until he was looking at her.  Bulma met his gaze with equal intensity and fervor.  Trunks had sat between the two of them, wondering who would combust first . . .his father's brows had creased to the point of no return, and his mother's eyes flashed with the look he had seen so many times--right before he was about to be punished.

            Bulma watched as Vejiita turned to face her and narrowed his own eyes.  Those black, bottomless pits of despair studied her aggravated features and gave her a once over look--from her head to her feet, and then back again.  And then, that smirk appeared, and Bulma felt her body quiver with an intense anger she knew would never be equaled again in her lifetime.  Vejiita adjusted the waist band of his tight shorts and turned around again.

            "No . . ." He muttered, heading back down the hallway towards the GSR.  She could have sworn that she heard him chuckle, but she didn't stop to wonder.  Bulma growled in frustration and swiveled around to the salmon again, which was on the verge of burning.  She flicked off the switches on the stove and removed the hot plate from its burner.  A small voice brought her out of her cloud of anger,

            "Mom?" Trunks's tone suggested that of fear and confusion, so she turned to face him again, letting all traces of her annoyance leave her face.

            "Yeah, sweetie?" Her eyes threatened to brim with tears, but she had cried too many times in the past month for that to happen again.  It always seemed as though her eyes had finally dried up, and then the tears would come again.  An unexpected blame shot through her brain-- _damn you, Gohan, for even telling us that there was going to be another Boudoukai!_   It was bad enough that her husband was already obsessed with training, but now . . .

            "Are you ok?" The small voice interrupted her torturous train of thought once more.  Bulma smiled weakly and smoothed the front of her sweat pants.

            "I'm fine, Trunks." She replied finally, watching as his face softened again to contentment.  A quick glance at his face made her shiver;  _he looks so like his father . . ._ those angular features, the deep eyes.  Regardless of the fact that she shared the same color eyes as her son, the shape, the intensity of them would always belong to Vejiita.

            "Why isn't Dad eating with us . . .?"

            Her memory of that evening faded as she slowly munched on her dinner.  It was now nine o'clock and Vejiita had not left the GSR since he'd returned there nearly three hours ago.  Trunks had gone to bed half an hour ago.  She felt her throat constrict as she remembered tucking him into bed . . .

            "Mom . . .does Dad like us?  I mean, when I train with him, I think he does.  But sometimes . . .well sometimes it just is like he doesn't like us very much."

            Bulma's mouth dropped open and her eyes lost their brilliancy as he spoke.  She had swallowed her sorrow and touched her son's cheek.

            "Your Father loves you, Trunks . . .he does, very much.  Don't ever think he doesn't, alright?" She knew she had told the truth.  Vejiita loved his son no matter what he did to hide it.  It shown in his eyes as surely as the desire to be strong.  Perhaps he did not know how to show it, or even how to admit it, but he loved him.  She had watched Trunks nod slowly, drifting off to sleep.

            "Ok, Mom.  If he likes me then he must like you." And his eyes had shut.  Bulma tucked the sheets close around his small form and left the room.

            Now, here she sat, contemplating her son's words.  She was sure, beyond a doubt that Vejiita loved Trunks.  It was his feelings towards her that confused and hurt her.  He loved Trunks, but did he love her?  There were times when she believed it, and there were times when she was sure that Vejiita would never learn to care for anyone but himself.  The last time she had actually seen him and been able to talk to him had been over a month ago.  Since Gohan had announced the tournament, Vejiita had done nothing but train . . .and she knew it was so he could fight Goku--and win.

            He would get up early in the morning, around five or five thirty, but never any later than that.  Training took up his morning and afternoon, but he would occasionally come into the house to get food or drink.  Most of the time, she was not here, and so sightings of Vejiita were rare during the day.  After an adequate amount of time in the GSR, he'd usually exit around ten at night and head right up to the bathroom.   There, he would take a ten-minute shower and get into bed not long after that.  On rare occasion, he would come down after his shower and get a drink or sit in the kitchen.  Either way, he did not converse with her, and after a few attempts on her part to address him she had given up due to his obvious disinterest in whatever she had to say.

            Bulma finished her small meal and placed the plate on the floor beside her chair.  She reached for the remote--and found it briskly removed from her reach.  The thief seated himself on the coach beside her chair and left her wide-eyed and slightly frustrated.  Bulma's nose trailed in the air for a moment, and she shook her head.  No matter how sweaty he was, or how dirty, he always seemed to smell good.  Of course, he smelled best after a shower, and for a while he'd actually used cologne.  But there was an air about him that always seemed to make him intoxicating.  Bulma ground her teeth together, her anger towards him returning.  She took a deep breath as he began to channel surf.

            "How do you do it?" She asked quietly, watching the features of his face twist and change as she spoke.  Vejiita turned his head towards her.

            "Do what?" he asked, with some measure of ignorance.  Bulma leaned towards him,

            "How do you shut down your awareness of other people and act as though you are the only person alive who matters?"

            Vejiita snorted and chuckled sardonically.

            "I may as well be." He replied, that characteristic arrogance seeping from every pour of his perfect body.  Bulma seethed beside him, truly disappointed,

            "I thought you had changed," she whispered, angry that a choked sob had escaped her throat.  She clenched her fists and left the chair, crossing in front of the couch.

            Vejiita felt the crease in his eyebrows diminish as he saw the crushing pain on her face.  His arm shot out of its own free will to grip her hand.  The soft skin of her fingers danced over the palm of his hand and did not grip as he had thought they would.  She stopped in front of him, her chest heaving and her arms trembling.  Vejiita felt the world spin as he realized he had gone too far.  But his ice-cold soul had no intentions of revealing that to any other living being.  How long had it been since he'd talked with her, laughed with her in private?  How long had it been since he'd even touched her?  But the important thing was that idiot, Kakarotto.  Beating that impertinent fool to a pulp was all he needed in this world, and all he wanted.   _Is it . . .?_   Vejiita felt his insides clench as emotions conflicted, collided and wrecked--he snarled and pulled her arm towards him until she was kneeling on the couch next to him.  He leaned into her gaze as she gasped and gained her balance.  Anger poured from her face as her jaw clenched and she tightened her forearm muscles.  Vejiita brought his mouth to her ear.

            "The Saiya-jin no Ouji changes for no one, onna . . .maybe you should have thought of that before you ever came near me."

            "Yes . . .?" She whispered in reply, making tiny shivers race down his spine, then, "don't lie  _Bejiita-sama_ , it is unbecoming of a prince."

            Bulma's heart caught in her throat as he growled and pushed her down onto the couch, pinning her body beneath his.  His mouth hovered inches above her nose, then her forehead, and the heat of his bare chest nearly smothered her.  Unwittingly, a tear caressed the top portion of her cheek.  Thankfully, he did not notice as he spoke again, angry amusement in his tone.

            "I always have admired your confidence, onna . . ." He whispered harshly, brushing his hot lips against hers.  Lust clouded his senses and made his irritation intensify.   _How weak am I?  Can you not accept her even after so long?_   Bulma struggled to release her arms and push against his chest.

            "Do not even  _think_  about touching me right now," she raised her voice only slightly, for effect, and realized that she meant every word of it.  She desperately fought back the tears that were brimming at her eyelids, but they rebelled and laughed at her as they spilled down her flushing cheeks.

            Vejiita felt his breathing begin to constrict as he watched the woman recoil from his touch and turn her face away from him.  The spears that her actions had suddenly thrown into his heart cut him to the back of his rib cage.  It seemed he could feel his hot blood spilling over every organ as she continued to struggle against him.  Her feeble efforts to pry him off of her didn't budge him in the slightest.  But he could feel himself relenting as her tears became more profuse.  Vejiita braced himself as he spoke again.

            "Why do you hate me now, Chikyuu-jin?  You used to like me so much."

            Bulma's head lifted slightly off of the couch and closer to his mouth.

            "I wish I was capable of hating you, Vejiita.  Because you deserve to be hated . . ."

            Vejiita tried with all the strength in his body to keep his face trained and nonplussed by her words, hating himself for even  _feeling_  the pain she had caused.  And yet, what she had said was true.  He felt his grip on her loosen.

            "That is nothing new to me, Bulma . . ." Her name was a whispered moan on his lips and he sat up, wishing he had never even come into this room tonight.  He had hoped to try, in the best way he knew how, to make up for the time he had spent avoiding her over the past month.  It had happened before, and he was positive that she would be used to it by now.  But he had been wrong of course, as he usually was when it came to her.  Vejiita had felt himself rejecting his idea even as he had entered the room, but the smell of her, the sight of that soft blue cascade of hair pulled up into a ruffled bun on her head  _made_  him keep walking.  Her exposed neck was a rare sight anymore, since she kept it covered most all the time to conceal the bite mark that still brandished her tender flesh like a burn mark.  Slowly, he repositioned himself on the couch, feeling as if any sudden movement would send him careening off the edge of all sense and into a pit of fire.

            Bulma quivered as she too sat up and watched as he leaned an elbow on the armrest of the couch and covered his eyes.  She sniffled and touched a few fingers to her lips, then let her hand drop into her lap.  Vejiita shifted beside her and made a slight noise of discontent.  Her name had left an echo of dripping emotion in the air, thickening the atmosphere and making it impossible for her to breathe normally any longer.  Bulma felt his words sink in, knowing he must be used to being hated--it had been part of his life for longer than she could ever know.  But she absolutely refused to allow that fact to influence his relationship with her.  During the first few years after Trunks was born, Vejiita had been a different man . . .but she could tell as well that perhaps it really wasn't a different man who had manifested himself.  Perhaps that man had been inside of him all along . . .perhaps the caring, dedicated man he had become was only who he really was deep inside of his soul.  Though dedication had never been a foreign word to Vejiita.  Life had demanded of him that he be dedicated . . .but only to himself, and to his destiny.  Bulma clutched at the collar of her shirt and leaned forward, dared to reach out and run two fingers down his hairline and to his jaw.  She felt him shudder beneath her touch, and she repeated the action upon realizing the red-hot temperature of his skin.  Sweat dripped down the side of his face and onto his neck, where it careened onto his chest.  Bulma breathed as deeply as possible.

            "Must it always end this way?" She asked quietly, wondering just exactly everything she had meant by that.  This time he did not look at her when he spoke,

            "What way?" He asked, his voice raking the air like a serrated knife.  She cringed and looked away from his troubled expression.

            "Must there always be this gap between us?  Just when I think you're getting closer to me, you pull away--!"

            "And I have good reason to!!" He bellowed, this time making eye contact with her.  The wide expanses of her eyes dipped into his liquid insides and made him feel like vomiting.  And he did have good reason, dammit!  There was no way she could ever understand why . . .no way that he would ever understand it either.  He stood and clenched his fists, "I'm going to shower and then to bed.  I'll sleep in the guest room if you want me to."

            Bulma felt her guts hit the floor, and she tucked her knees into her chest.  Tears wet her pants and she closed her eyes.

            "Vejiita . . ." his name rose out of the deepest recesses of her heart, "why do you stay--if you don't love me--?"  
            "Don't you understand?!" His voice became a ragged, tearing piece of cloth that tugged at her throat and choked her.  He grabbed her hand again and drug her off of the couch and into his chest, "don't you fucking understand by now?!  Love is not an option for me!  Not now, not EVER . . .it can NEVER be!!"

            Bulma sobbed aloud then and searched his eyes for some kind of answer, some kind of explanation.

            "Why?" She breathed the word against his skin and laid her head on his chest, not caring that she was confused as to why he had not shoved her away, "Vejiita, why?  Don't you even care for me?  For Trunks?"

            To her great surprise, she felt his hand come to the back of her head and lift her to face him.  Nodding slowly, he suddenly appeared to her as a small boy.

            "Yes," he whispered, "yes I do.  And it is the most dangerous thing I've ever done . . .because I don't know what it means . . .and I don't know what it's capable of."

            "Then why hide it?!" She retorted, her hushed voice a rich sound of desperation and want. "Why do you hide it from me?"

            Vejiita released his hold on her and stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers.  He did not know how to respond at first, and then he bowed his head, looked up again into her leaking eyes.  Fire entered his lungs as he replied.

            "Because all I ever knew in life was pain and fear, until I met you.  And even after so long I still do not understand much else . . .I am afraid, Bulma.  I am afraid of myself, and of what you do to me.  That is all."

            Bulma lowered her eyes and closed them to the tortured look on his face.  The last of her tears fell down her cheeks, and she sighed, giving in to his words once more.   _Because they always make so much sense . . .and yet no sense._   She opened her eyes and saw him turn to leave.

            "You don't have to sleep in the guest room, Vejiita." She said softly, seeing him stop, hesitation in his stance and in his step.  He turned to her and nodded once, a silent regard, and continued on his way up the stairs.

            Bulma collapsed on the couch once more and laughed to herself despairingly as she realized that the TV was on, speaking to no one.


	3. Safe Haven

The shower was the one place in the house that Bulma still felt safe in.  Safe in the sense that no one would interfere with her thought process.  When she and Vejiita had first settled in together, there had been several occasions when the shower had not kept her safe from all intruders.  But that had never bothered her.

            Turning on the shower, a whiff of his soap accosted her nostrils and wrecked havoc on her senses.   _Damn him_. . .As she stepped inside, she was surprised to find the water still steaming hot, and she let it course down her body in welcoming, delicious waves.  Her wet hair cascaded onto her back, spreading the water all the way down to her waist and over her long legs, down to the tired surface of her feet.  Bulma wondered briefly why, exactly, a shower was one of the most wonderful sensations on the planet.

            Slowly, she picked up her shower sponge and lathered it with the most fragrant, soothing soap she could find in her massive collection.  As she began to let the sweet smelling bubbles caress her every limb and extremity, she closed her eyes and leaned her back against the shower wall.   _Six hours of sleep won't be that bad,_  she mused, knowing that it must be eleven o'clock by now, if not after.  By the time she exited the shower and got herself into bed it would be Kami knows how late.  Thoughts plagued her mind about the Mae Ling Tech merger, her nine-page summary that would have to be typed by the end of the day tomorrow, and a myriad of other monotonous duties that awaited her when she arrived at her office.  Slowly, Bulma let her fingers rub the tension from her shoulder and neck, and she let her head lean back.  More bubbles stroked her tired body, and she rubbed a hand across her stomach.  She tried desperately to avoid it but Vejiita's touch suddenly clouded her mind and made her intensely weary.  The warm water pummeled her body with the searing intensity of another body, but she dismissed it and continued to stroke her belly.  It was impossible to deny how she'd felt earlier when Vejiita had had her underneath him, at his mercy . . .the way he loved it.  But she had absolutely refused to let him take advantage of her in such a vulnerable state.  Bulma Briefs was many things, but she most certainly was not a fool, and she could not allow herself to be made into one.  Giving into him at that moment would have made her look weak.  And as many times as she had done that in the past, she refused to do it now, and especially with him.  Hell, he probably would have considered it an insult.

            But her body would not ignore him as much as her mind had, and she found herself wishing that he were there with her.  No feeling was quite like that of his body when it was completely devoid of any clothing . . .that wondrously soft skin that slid and moved with his well defined muscles perfectly.   _How soft it is . . .and yet how hard he is on the inside._   Bulma longed to feel that skin against her fingertips again--how he tensed whenever she touched him, and then gradually leaned into her as if she were the only essential element to life.  Memory of his fingers caressing her cheek, her jaw, then down her neck to the hollow between her breasts and onto the plain of her stomach--learning every inch of her.  The heat of the shower became hotter, but she ignored it . . .it felt strangely good.  Bulma was surprised that she would remember his touch so well.  It had been so long since she had even seen him alone for any long amount of time, let alone had a chance to be as intimate with him as she had been in the past.   _Kami . . .intimate is not the word to describe it._   Sex with Vejiita was never anything short of mind-blowing, and somehow it did not surprise her.  The intensity of his eyes would surely make for an intense lovemaking session--she had known that from the minute she'd locked eyes with the Saiya-jin Prince.

            Bulma sighed aloud as the memory she held of his fingers traced her belly button, made her feel as though there were no other man on this planet but he.   _Strange, I haven't even thought of another man since being with Vejiita . . .but then, not so strange._   Even thinking about sex with anyone else brought tears to her eyes.  She smiled to herself thinking that no human would ever be as good as he was anyway.  More memory clouded Bulma's mind as his lips made fiery trails down her neck to her shoulder.  She groaned in annoyance as the water became too hot.   _Stupid water heater_. . .

            Upon opening her eyes she gasped so loudly that she had to cover her own mouth.  The realness of her memory suddenly made painful sense as the eyes she had just regarded in her mind now pierced hers with powerful actuality.   _Damn his Saiya-jin reflexes!_   His ability to appear without being noticed had always unnerved her.  Bulma made a hearty effort to regain her breathing capacity and she furrowed her brow, trying to elicit an explanation from him as to what he was doing in the shower.  Her breath heaved out in a groan as he pressed himself against her.

            "I know you told me not to touch you," he whispered heavily into her ear, sending shocks of heat down her spine.  Vejiita's open lips danced around the bite mark on her neck, and he pinned her shoulder to the wall, "but . . .Kami . . ." he groaned as she had a moment earlier, "how am I supposed to tell you anything if I can't touch you?"

            Bulma felt her throat close and she knew the truth of his words.  If she had had the willpower to fight him off before, she did not have it now.  His voice was no longer the harsh, scathing low grade of sand paper that it had been half an hour ago but a low, deep, moaning plea that plunged into the core of her heart.  She felt her head turn towards the direction of his mouth.

            "You . . .aren't very good with words, are you, Ouji-sama?" She whispered, knowing he could say more to her with one stroke than he ever could with a sentence.  Vejiita chuckled softly in her ear, and the reverberating sound in his chest made her body nearly convulse with desire for him.  He took in a breath and opened his eyes to look directly into hers as he kissed her once, lightly,

            "Never have been . . ." he mumbled against her mouth.  Without further sound, he pressed his mouth to hers in a movement that seemed as desperate as it did hungry.  She felt then, that there had never been such a kiss as his . . .never such a feeling as that of his tongue dancing with hers in an embrace so intricate--so delicate and yet so intense that it could never be broken apart.  He moved both of his hands to the back of her head and brought her mouth closer to his by tilting it to the side just slightly.  Bulma could not help the moan that she emitted against his lips, and this only seemed to drive him further against her.

            The searing heat between her legs met his briefly and both of them gasped against the mouth of the other.  Vejiita released her head and placed both of his palms on the wall, then thrust his hips forward and pressed his chest against hers--slaving her to the wall of the shower.  Bulma felt her tears begin to mingle with the water, and she was thankful that it hid them for the time being.  But Vejiita was far from unaware . . .he met her eyes again.

            "You want me to stop?" he breathed, and she could see that his question was genuine.  Had she said yes, he would have stopped.  But she had not the strength to say yes, only the strength to shake her head and grip his head as he had hers.

            "Kami, no . . .no I don't want you to stop."

            That seemed to be enough for him, and he let his arms fall to their sides where he then reached behind her and clutched at her backside, heaving her up off of the floor.  He couldn't help but smirk as she wrapped her legs around him, bringing her hips as close to his pulsing warmth as she could without touching it.  He breathed out heavily and lowered his mouth to the soft skin of her breasts, loving the feel of the sliding warmth and wetness that engulfed the two of them.  Vejiita's only affection, his only way of expressing it came with this.  It was all he knew.  Physicality was his stronghold . . .he knew it, and trusted in it.  Words were so fickle . . .actions speak so much louder than words, isn't that the way the Chikyuu-jin say it?  He pushed her harder against the wall, and when he was sure she could support herself without his hands, he let them rove over hips and under her legs.

            Bulma gasped as he touched her so erotically that it seemed she would simply lose consciousness over how much pleasure she gained from it.  He always knew how to do that . . .how to bring her to complete ecstasy in ways that she never knew possible simply by one touch.  His soft fingers slid quietly, not forcefully, into her just barely and she bit her lip to keep from crying out to him to continue further until he touched her soul.  They stayed there for a moment, suspended in her apprehensive gasps for air, and she brought his mouth to hers to kiss him, wordlessly thanking him for all he made her feel.  Their conversation earlier was miles from her mind as his strong arms lifted her further up the wall.  Another gasp but she knew she was safe, and he kissed her lower abdomen tenderly.  Vejiita saw her wide-eyed gaze as he lifted her legs up to his shoulders and he smiled wickedly, lowering his mouth to taste her . . .a wine he considered more precious than beverages of the Kaioshin himself.

            Muffled cries escaped her lips as she tried to hold them in, for fear of waking their son.  Vejiita couldn't help smiling, picturing the look on his son's face if he were to see the scene in the bathroom.  It only made him want her more . . .When he was quite sure she would not be able to stand, he flicked his tongue against her once more and lowered her legs back down to his hips.  His heartbeat, he was sure, had now fallen down to his groin and would remain there until he'd had his fill of her.  Bulma made a move underneath him to push him away and attempt the same ritual for him, but he pushed her back against the wall and closed the gap between them, shaking his head slowly.  There was no time for that . . .at least not for him.  Vejiita felt his body scream out to him and to her for granted entry into the deepest portions of her body, and he nuzzled her nose, gripping her backside once again.  In a slow, deliberate movement, he nudged the tip of himself into her, earning him a quiet, tortured moan from the beautiful creature he held in his embrace.  She raised her head to him once more and touched her lips to his.

            "Ai-aishiteru, Bejiita...  I love you!" She gasped, tightening her hold on his hips.  Vejiita felt his heart leap from his throat, but he swallowed it again down into the icy depths of his sub-conscious soul.  He opened his mouth, fearing what he may say if he weren't careful.

            "I know that, Bulma . . ." he whispered in reply.  And before he could see the only slightly disappointed look in her eyes, he thrust himself inside of her warm sanctuary in a heavy, powerful movement.

            Bulma seemed to feel the moon explode behind her eyes, and she braced herself for the ki storm that would soon follow his forceful movements.  Warmth that could never equal the water that had been flowing over her enveloped her body in suspended time.  She gazed down at him, and he met her eyes . . .did not unlock their stare as he pushed himself further into her, harder and faster until there was a burst of blue light and she could feel him on the verge of release.  After biting his nose, she slowly nodded and he clenched his jaw, coming with her in a violent storm of emotion and tension.  She shivered at the growl that came from the depths of his throat through his gritted teeth, and sighed shortly in exhausted satisfaction.

            Vejiita lay his head into the groove of her neck and breathed against the heat of her skin.  After a few moments, the pelting water on his back made him uncomfortable and he moved out of the stream.  He let her feet back down onto the floor of the shower and nuzzled her neck further.  Bulma stroked his back to calm the ki that still circled around their bodies, and to ease his heavy breathing.  She brushed her fingers over the furry remnant of his once magnificent tail, and she wondered briefly what it would be like for him to have it again.

            Once enough time had passed, she lifted his head and met his sharply tuned eyes.

            "Thank you…" she whispered, thanking him for more than she could say.  And he knew.

            And tomorrow would be the same.  She would not see him, she would not speak with him.  Bulma only hoped that by the end of the Budoukai, she could ask him for love, and perhaps he could give it to her.   _Perhaps . . ._

Vejiita nodded to her, and kissed her pleasantly.  He touched her face softly, wondering why he didn't touch it more often.

 


	4. Monkey Prince

            ~~~ It is now nearly three in the afternoon.  I've been sitting here for the past four hours contemplating a conversation I'd had earlier with an executive sales consultant from Mae Ling Tech.  The man was amiable enough considering that by the time I'd actually returned his phone call, he'd been waiting for over two hours.

            When I had finally awoken this morning, it was to the gentle insistence of the sun's rays on my face . . .which never happens except on weekends.  I had sprung from my sleepy half-consciousness only to see the clock beside my bed reading 9:25 A.M.  Kami--I slept right through the alarm nearly three hours prior.  The buzzing must have gone on for at least half an hour without anyone to switch it off.  I remember groaning, and then wondering why in the hell I'd been so sound asleep as to miss my alarm.

            The whole previous evening had come back to me in one violent rush.  Even now I have to close my eyes as I remember it . . .

            After our interlude in the shower, Vejiita had reluctantly left me to finish my routine.  I'd quite honestly expected him to be dead asleep when I returned to the bedroom, but my expectations were gravely wrong--for once.

            After slipping on my robe, I'd tiptoed into Trunks's room, made sure he was fine, and then headed back down the hall towards my--our room.  One can hear Vejiita breathing in his sleep halfway down a hallway.  I hesitate to call it snoring--as Vejiita would never snore.  It is more accurately described as a steady, deep, and heavy breathing the likes of which I have never heard from any human.  Son Kun used to do it as a small child, I recall.  It makes me wonder if he still does.

            In one instant I could sense that he was not asleep, and I admit, I even hesitated in front of the closed bedroom door.  My palm rested on its cold metal surface, and as I reached for the touch panel, I felt my fingers draw back slightly.  Surely, I had thought that by then, Vejiita's mood had changed.  Chikyuu-jin or Saiya-jin, it is amazing how a male's intentions change when he is no longer aroused, ne?  After a moment had passed, I decided to brace myself for whatever events were about to occur, and I touched the glowing green button near the latch of the door.

            I remember smelling the warm summer air as it hit my face, and it mingled with his scent, intoxicating me as always.  I glance at the empty bed illuminated only by the small lamp on his side of the bed.  As the door had shut behind me, I could see him; hands fisted against the window frame as he gazed out the glass surface.  The scowl was still there, and his body was tense as a spring . . .I could see it from the distance between us.

            I had stood there for what seemed like an eternity just watching him.  His dark blue night shirt hung loosely unbuttoned on his torso as if it were simply a towel, and the matching pants clung to his powerful hips, complimenting that never failing figure of his quite nicely.  I had to stop myself from sighing as I watched him step back from the window and cross his arms over his broad chest.  I often marvel, still, over the amount of power in a man who only bests me in height by two inches.  There was still silence hanging in the room even after I was sure that he had noticed me.

            Vejiita turned slowly to face me at that point and his eyes bore into me.  For a moment, I had been sure that he was angry.  But then, I should know after living with the man for ten years that he  _always_  looks angry.  I quickly ascertained that his mood had indeed changed, but not in the way that I had expected.

            All I remember about the next few hours was that he had strode over to me and took my head in the palm of his hand much the way he had done earlier that evening, and then reached for the tie of my robe.  In one movement, he'd loosened the knot and slipped the robe from my shoulders.  There had been no words, only that insistent yet so tender movement of his hands across my skin.  For all of his arrogance and aggressive behavior, I have never known Vejiita to be violent when it came to making love.  He always has been, and still is, painfully tender.  It is almost impossible to bear at times.  I can recall many times when I'd attempted to be the aggressor . . .to coax him into doing the same.  It has never bothered me that he would not simply toss me onto the bed and have his way, leaving me unsatisfied and aching for more.  A certain previous lover of mine used to do that quite frequently.

            But there have been times, of course, when a quickie was something that sparked my interest and made me crave the thrill of fast, no-holds-barred sex.  But Vejiita would not ever have any of that.  I could tell after just a week of being with him that sex was not merely an act to him. . .it was an art.  And Kami, he is a master artist . . .but I have strayed from subject yet again.  As I said there were no words . . .Vejiita has never spoken during the actual act of sex except for a few times that I can remember.  One was just now in the shower, of course.

            Many moments passed as I recall, and his fingers had lingered at my waist, as if he wanted to make sure I would allow him to continue.  I had not the will to refuse him . . .it had been so long before last night.  Half an hour later, I remember feeling him in the dark.  He crawled onto me again and nibbled at my neck . . .again gently insisting.  Truthfully, every time he silently pleads with me to let him touch me, it brings tears to my eyes.  The mighty Saiya-jin no Ouji . . .practically on his hands and knees, waiting to hold his mate . . .it is truly heart-breaking.

            I have specks of memory during the early hours of this morning as we made love.  I can't even say how many times…Kami, how embarrassing.  He spoke once, I remember…I had been looking at the clock and I had noticed that it was two in the morning.  Vejiita whispered several words in his native language into my ear and I remember trembling just from the way his voice traveled through my ear and seemingly through my entire body.  I didn't care at the time, but after being at work for a while this morning, I started to wonder what it was he had said to me.  My knowledge of Saiyago is, to say the least, minimal.  But just a few minutes before writing in this journal I took the free time I had to attempt to translate it.

            A few years ago, I'd asked Vejiita to teach me some of his language so that I might sometime impress him…he taught me basic conversation, had me memorize the Saiya-jin alphabet symbols.  After working on the sentence I'd heard last night I remember dropping my pen.  And even as I read it again now, I can't help but become so flushed that my hands begin to tremble as the rhythmic words chant in my head like a religious zealot.

            The little piece of paper I'd written on looks just like this:

             _"Sh'an karsa ten, usari k'ar…y'shina-kari suln nan sh'an…"_

            "I take your hand …you are always mine …remember this--I can never be yours."~~~

 

#

 

            Bulma shut her journal quite forcefully and thrust it back into her desk drawer.  The piece of offending paper still lay in front of her, like a brandishing flame to all she had ever hoped and cherished.  Why should he whisper such words to her?  And why during such an act as sex?  She placed a trembling palm over the words and gently crumpled it into a ball of nothing, and tossed it into her garbage can.   _I can never be yours…_

            Her thoughts were subsequently interrupted by her secretary.  Sherie stood nervously before Bulma’s desk, twisting her hands together and shifting in place.  Bulma smiled gently.

            “What is it, hun?” she asked quietly, trying hard to suppress her foul mood.  Sherie clasped her hands together and bit her lip.

            “I’m so sorry to have to ask you this, Miss Briefs.  But my daughter’s school just called-she’s been sick and the school asked me to pick her up so she won’t have to ride the transport home.”

            Bulma shrugged amiably and smiled again.

            “It’s alright,” she replied, her voice slowly finding the volume she needed, “I need to finish my summary report on Mae Ling Tech.  When you leave could you just leave a message on the answering servo that you’re out and I’m busy?”

            Sherie nodded and bowed quickly.

            “Thank you, Miss Briefs!  I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then …” as she turned to leave, Bulma lowered her eyes and looked back at her computer screen, feeling her brain fry on it as she realized she only had two pages typed of the summary.  Sherie had turned back to her, “oh, and Miss Briefs-you look exhausted.  You should go home early if you get the chance.”

            Bulma nodded and laughed quietly.

            “I quite agree …”

            After the young girl left and shut the door behind her, Bulma’s eyes inadvertently lowered again to the trashcan, and the small ball of paper that now lay on the top of it.  Breathing deeply and hissing in discontent, she tore her eyes away from it and back to the monitor.  She was sure that within a few hours her eyes would need to be peeled from its glowing surface.

 

#

 

 

             Vejiita had sat in the confines of the GSR for nearly three hours, meditating.  He'd sent Trunks out at least two of those hours ago when the boy couldn't keep his concentration any longer.  The Saiya-jin no Ouji sat with his legs crossed atop one another, and the palms of his hands flat on the surface of his knees.

            Visions haunted him, even through meditation, and it pricked at his nerves like a hot sticker of flame.  The countless people he'd murdered screamed out to him for deliverance from their graves of stone and rubble.  Nappa's huge grinning face taunted him as if from a real-time nightmare…

            "Chukon sha, Zarshi…usari kaln moranion ya.  Usari tolenga ya'abat Saiya-jin!"

             _I am ashamed of you, My Prince…you were a wonderful soldier…you are a disgrace to the Saiya-jin!_

Vejiita's eyes snapped open and he squinted, fighting the nausea that threatened to overtake him.  Standing slowly, he fought the torturous images that plagued his mind and body.  He had not heard his native language in years…save from his own mouth.  And to hear…to hear that he had been a disgrace...   _Kuso…get a hold of yourself.  Nappa has been dead for over a decade!_ Vejiita sniffled quietly and cleared his mind of all images so that he may be presentable should anyone see him once he exited the GSR.  Making his way to the control panel, he switched off the 30G simulator and heard the machine die down like a lonely child wailing for a companion.

            The darkness that had engulfed his mind and body just minutes ago sent hoards of shivers down his stiffened spine.  An ugly fist of memory had rested in his brain and he felt the need to suddenly bang his head against the wall to rid himself of it.  Ignoring his instincts to bash open his skull, he touched the glowing green surface of the door panel and closed his eyes as it opened before him.  The technology of this place always seemed to vaguely remind him of a spaceship…and he'd harbored a fear of those machines for longer than he could remember, though he would never admit it-not even to himself. 

_…Stop speaking that primitive language you sickening little primate!!  If I hear it again from any of you I'll have you wash the entire ship with those disgusting, furry appendages you call tails…!_

Vejiita growled and bit his own lip, exiting the GSR and ripping his towel from the shower room's wall.  For nearly four years, his nightmarish visions of Furiza had diminished to a once a month occurrence.  But of late, the "day-mares" had even returned and had given him a new list of frustrations to add to his everyday training schedule.  Each emotion was a battle for the Saiya-jin Prince…each  _emotion._   Even the word was difficult to say.  Emotions were an enemy, and he dealt with them as he would any other…through his own strength, determination and power.  In fact, he smirked to himself; the only real emotion he held was hatred…hatred for that fool, Kakarotto.   _Ahh…much better._   His usual self shone through the inner torment he'd just endured, and he reveled in it.  Helplessness was not something he could easily deal with and he despised it…nearly as much as he despised Kakarotto…as much as he abhorred him for destroying the only damn being he loathed more than that pitiful Saiya-jin third-class!  Vulnerability was like a cold blanket of death…not acceptable…not an option.   _…don't you understand?!  Love is not an option for me, not now, not ever!_

He cringed only a fraction of a centimeter and threw his towel around his neck as he recalled the previous night's events.  The words he'd said to her…but they were all true…weren't they?!   _YES, you weak fool._   But, he concluded, had he not given into her later on-had he not come to her in the dead of the night and awakened old feelings and desires between the two of them, he was sure he would have lost her.  He recalled speaking words into her ear that he was sure she would not understand…but knowing her sharp mind and keen memory, she'd surely figure it out within the next couple of days and confront him about it.  Would she?

Vejiita growled and clenched his jaw, fighting the shudders that ran through his torso as visions of their activities tempted him.  Ten years and she still looked amazing…he would sometimes swear that she aged like a Saiya-jin.  Vejiita closed his eyes and leaned a palm against the wall…how weak he could become just at the thought of her.   _Kami curse her to hell!  I am no better than a hatchling boy when she looks at me._

The sound of the door to the shower room swishing open startled him slightly and he stood straight, glaring at his son as the boy entered, wide-eyed and curious.

"Tousan?" the boy's voice asked warily, seeming to sense the abnormally high level of Vejiita's resting ki.  He gazed at the lavender haired warrior that stood before him and bore his eyes into his.

"What is it?" He asked, his voice deep, penetrating…as always.  But yet, strangely calm as he looked into those oceanic eyes that mirrored his mother's.

Trunks pulled at the hem to his shirt and looked down briefly, then met his Father's gaze unflinchingly.

"Kaasan…she isn't home yet.  Is she still at work this late?"

Vejiita's ki rose again involuntarily, and he narrowed his eyes, hoping his momentary concern had not shown.

"Perhaps," he muttered, forcing himself to walk slowly past his son and into the hallway, which lead to the living area.  After a short period of silence, he spotted the phone that sat on the elaborate end table on the other side of the couch.  The message light was flashing repeatedly, and he smirked, "did you think to check the messages on the telephone?" He asked softly, none of his usual snide tone decorating his voice tonight…it annoyed him.  The boy ran up beside him and jumped onto the couch before Vejiita,

            "Nope…guess not," he reached out and touched the button, activating that awful electronic voice that Vejiita had grown to hate over the past few years.  After it was wonderfully over, Bulma's voice floated through the machine.  He clenched his fist as the sound of her voice sent a  _feeling…_ over the entirety of his body…

            "It's me boys," her voice was tired, "I'm really sorry but I won't be home in time for dinner.  Trunks, there are some frozen dinners in the freezer.  Show your Tousan how to make them, I'm sure he doesn't know…" soft laughter sparkled at the edge of her voice, and even Vejiita had to laugh as he knew he certainly did not know what to do with that infernal contraption she called a "micro-heater".  She continued, "I should be home around 7:30 or 8:00…" a long pause, "I love you both…bye now."

            There was silence as the machine went off.  When the ringing in his ears became too much, Vejiita breathed in with exasperation and wiped at the back of his sweaty neck,

            "Did you shower?" He mumbled, wondering how in the hell he'd picked up their language so quickly.  Trunks's head shot up and his eyes were still wide, but unafraid, and he nodded.

            "Yes…" another pause as he slid off of the couch and headed towards the kitchen, "if you tell me what you want, Tousan, I'll make it while you shower."

            Vejiita nearly chuckled aloud, instead he just "hmphed" in amusement.

            "Whatever you say, brat…" he replied, beginning to contemplate what he'd really enjoy to fill his stomach.

            After Vejiita had searched in the freezer for nearly five minutes, Trunks had sighed in anticipatory action as his father stood and handed him a box.  The boy glanced at it and then took it from him.  But for a moment, he stared at Vejiita.  The Saiya-jin lifted an eyebrow and felt himself begin to sweat suddenly.

            "What?" He asked sharply, glaring at the boy with annoyance.  Trunks let his lips hang open for merely a second, and then he gripped the box more tightly.  Vejiita was always amazed at his son…so small…so powerful.  The innocent wonder in his eyes was so sharply contrasted by the obvious shape and definition that he knew he had given him.  And it never ceased to look amazing…that perfect meshing of his face, and her face…so proportioned and wonderful.  It was certainly a sight he'd never seen before-he had a flashback of the day the boy was born.

            Vejiita shook his head violently and asked his son again what he was staring at.  Trunks simply smiled and said.

            “It’s going to take ten minutes, Tousan…”

            Vejiita nodded and unthinkingly lay the palm of his hand on top of the boy’s lavender head.  Then without any more threat of words, he turned and exited the kitchen, seeking the solace of the shower.

 

#

 

            The night was warm, and a gentle smelling breeze had begun to float into Bulma's office as she packed up her things and prepared to leave.  The sun had begun to set in the early summer evening and, glancing at her clock, Bulma sighed and left the office at 7:30 p.m.

            After locking everything behind her, she made her way out into the vast parking lot as usual and de-capsulated her car.  Riding home was heaven as the warm breeze filled her nose, her hair, and her mind…freeing all three of any tensions.  She wondered briefly how Vejiita and Trunks had fared with dinner.  She snickered to herself thinking of Vejiita struggling to use any kind of cooking or electronic equipment.  Admitting to herself that she was in a better mood than she had been the previous day, she decided to temporarily ignore the translation discovery she'd made earlier that day.  The words still burned in her mind like a dying ember of flame, but she shook it out as quickly as it had lit.

            Bulma pulled the small hair tie from her long locks and let it flow about her face in the wind.  She flicked at it with a free hand and decided that she needed a haircut, and badly.  Perhaps something totally different this time…something she could keep for a while…something Vejiita would like.  Her smile died only slightly as she wondered if he was as content as she.  Would he be the same Vejiita that he had been for the past few months?  Or would he be the man he had become last night, only for a short time?

            It was true, despite the subtle changes in Vejiita's mannerisms and acceptance over the past years, he had still remained the proud, noble prince he had always been.  There were times when she could see his arrogance as clearly as if it had been stamped on his forehead…in that evil little smirk, in the way he crossed his arms over that broad chest.  Someone had once said that one who crosses their arms frequently is actually quite insecure.  Bulma's eyebrows quirked as she contemplated this…but it couldn't be.  Vejiita-insecure?  The two words were an oxymoron…opposites.  But then again, Vejiita was not a man one could easily read.

            Once she had pulled into their driveway, she breathed a small sigh and let her hair remain hanging past her shoulders, curled slightly and still a bit wild from the wind in the car.  She tugged at her turtleneck gently and slung her purse over her shoulder, attempting to make herself as presentable as possible for her small, yet happy family.   _Happy family?_

            As the door slid open before her, she caught the aroma of frozen dinners; processed meats and vegetables, but it smelled good just the same.  She'd be happy to have one herself.  At least Trunks and Vejiita had had a chance to eat.  Bulma wondered suddenly if her "husband" had truly eaten with her son.  The house was silent, but not oddly.  Not much was ever said when the two of them ate…it was more an art to them than anything.  After finding a temporary place to sit her things, she headed towards the kitchen, and the heavy aroma of food.

            Bulma's eyes widened as she entered, greeted by the gazes of Vejiita and her son.  The two of them looked up to see her, windblown hair and all.  Vejiita felt the food fall down his throat in a hard rock as the sight of her made his whole body go rigid with a rush of conflicting emotions.  The boy jumped from his chair and grinned,

            "Kaasan!" He yipped, throwing his arms out and waiting for his mother's hug.  She obliged him willingly, a bright smile on her face that could have charmed gold from the gods themselves.  Vejiita felt his hand go slack, and he laid his fork on the plate soundlessly as the boy returned to his seat and Bulma turned and headed towards the sink.  As she passed by him, her heavenly scent intoxicating his every thought, he let his eyes follow her, and no words were spoken.  He expected her to speak but she did not, only smiled at him knowingly and let her hand graze his shoulders as reached the sink behind him.  Vejiita ground his teeth together as a shudder wracked through him, and her angelic voice rang through the room.

            "Trunks, what did you do all day?" She asked, running the water now and washing her hands.

            "Trained, Mom!" He replied, and Vejiita let a small smile pass over his mouth as the boy's eyes lit with that Saiya-jin lust for combat, "Dad and I meditated for a while though.  I thought it was fun."

            Vejiita heard Bulma laugh softly behind him.

            "I'm glad, sweetie…" and then there was silence again when she shut off the water and made her way to the refrigerator, "did you two save anything for me?" She asked, leaning over and shifting her legs considerably.  Vejiita felt his eyes plant on her rear end…failing to even notice that he was doing so, he stuck his fork back in his mouth with a small bit of food on it and suddenly wished that Trunks was no where to be seen.  He rolled his eyes in response to himself and tore his eyes away from her body…" _usari tolenga ya…usari tolenga----you call that a tail, monkey prince?! This is a tail…" Air…must have air…that slithery tail-choking me…"you call that a tail, MONKEY PRINCE?!…usari tolenga!!"_

Vejiita dropped his fork onto his plate and jolted back to reality.  Glancing around the room, he saw that his mate and son were staring at him as if he had grown an extra appendage.  He bolted from his chair and let it careen backwards until it hit the counter.  His fists tightened at his sides, and Bulma stood up straight.  Her bright blue eyes gazed at him with concern, and it evoked a fury within him that he could not contain,

            "Vejiita?" Her voice crooned in his ears like a taunting whine…like…like… _monkey prince?_

            He dug his nails into the palm of his hand and left the table, knowing he'd never be able to make it out of there fast enough.  He felt their eyes dig into the back of his head as he exited, retreating to the only place he knew he would achieve the empty space he needed…the GSR.  He did not look back.


	5. Do You Ever Wonder?

Bulma threw open the living room windows hastily, allowing the late evening breeze to ease into the fibers of the house.  The smell of the air reminded her of summers when she was a child, and she suddenly longed for them.

            Vejiita's behavior at dinner should not have surprised her, but it had unnerved her.  Abrupt exits were a specialty of his, and he was good at them…a little too good.  However there had been something else in his eyes that evening…something she had never seen before.  Before she could place a name to it, she heard noise emanating from down the hallway towards the GSR.  She tensed and clenched her fists, making a move to sit down on the couch quickly.  Bulma fumbled for the remote and flicked on the TV, hoping that whatever was on it looked engrossing enough for her to have been watching for quite a while.

            Thankfully, it was simply a sit-com, and she held her breath.   _Kami…he's going to sense my ki anyway, I don't know why I even bother._   But she still attempted to play the part as his form entered the living area slowly and royally.  It was as if his very presence could bring the strongest of men to his knees.  She guessed it had much to do with how he was brought up to present himself.  Bulma reminded herself of the look in his eyes as he had fled from the table earlier, and she bit her lip…wondering why there had been fear in the eyes of the Great Saiya-jin no Ouji.

            A whiff of his scent accosted her senses as he passed through the living room and into the kitchen.  Bulma's eyebrows rose slightly in apprehension…would he ignore her this evening as he had every other night before last?  Silence resounded through the house, ironically, like the beating of a drum… _but perhaps that is my heart in my throat…_  Bulma forced back the anticipatory lump in her throat and waited…waited for something, for ANYTHING, for Kami's sake!

            There was a small breeze at her neck as Vejiita's form exited the kitchen and stood behind the couch.  Bulma's skin prickled up into goose bumps and sent a wracking shiver from the top of her nose down to the soft tips of her fingers and toes.  It was as if his very presence demanded attention, and reverence.  It always had been that way…from the very beginning.  She listened intently as his slow breathing became the only noise in the room…the television had long since become invalid.

            And then there was a rush of musky air as he knelt down beside her ear and brushed his lips to it.   _And the answer is…apparently Vejiita will not be ignoring me tonight._   It seemed as though a surge in his ki had ignited the air with a yellow brilliance, and she could suddenly sense his frustration as if it were a palatable substance in the room.  He took a deep breath, and lifted his nose by her ear and then his fingers to both sides of her neck and tilted it to the side ever so slightly.

            "I want to ask you something…"  he murmured, the noise sent a barrage of sensations into her body, and she tightened her hands into fists against the soft material of the couch.  With a great deal of effort, Bulma managed to create some semblance of proper speech, and she opened her lips slowly.

            "What's that?" She whispered, closing her eyes to the gentle strokes of his fingers on her skin.  They came to rest upon the mark he had continued to leave on her neck so many times over the last ten years, and she shuddered.

            "Do you find…that I really have changed all that much?" he asked, bringing his mouth down to the heated flesh of her neck and caressing it gently in ways she never knew possible.  Bulma drew in a shaky breath and tried to keep her hands at her sides.

            "Well…" she started, then gulped down the arousal that had embedded itself in her throat, "considering when you first came to earth you wanted to blow it to fuck all, I'd say you've changed quite a bit."

            The soft chuckle that rumbled in his chest was like a shock to her senses, and she let her mouth come fully open until she nearly let a moan escape.  Vejiita lifted his mouth to her ear again and licked at it once, slowly…softly and sensually.  Then he said,

            "Didn't you ever wonder why I was…" he paused, and lowered the tone and volume of his voice considerably, "the way I was before?"

            Bulma let out her breath in a quiet sigh, and let her eyes slink to their corners.  It had crossed her mind more than thirty times a day, she was sure…but explanation was never something Vejiita had been good at.  Was he about to offer her one?

            "Occasionally…" she breathed, letting her head move to the side even more as he began to plant small kisses on her skin.  There was a lull in his breathing, and he stretched out the soft fingers of his other hand.

            "You were confused…when I left this evening.  Weren't you?"

            "You might say that-" Bulma gasped in her last breath as Vejiita brought his teeth down gently on her ear.  He really did have a way of communicating emotions through touch and sense rather than words.  He had said so little over the past five minutes, and yet so much had been revealed by his actions that it sent her body reeling, "but not surprised." She finished breathlessly.  He chuckled again and reached down to her side to pick up her tense arm and hook it around his neck.  Then, trailing his fingers down the soft skin of her upper arm, he spoke, the quality of his voice like nothing she had ever heard in her life.

            " _I want you to know what it feels like…what it feels like to be me…_ "

            Bulma felt her neck crane backwards toward the drawing, thick and rich sound of his voice.  Never, in all her days of knowing him, had he spoken in such a way.  It sounded as if he had reached down into the deepest, most dark depths of his tortured soul and spoken words he had never meant to speak.  Bulma turned her head to the side and leaned into his waiting mouth.

            "How do we do that?" She asked, a mountain of unanswered questions in that one spoken one.  His lips closed around hers once, and he suckled gently them.  Once parted, he opened his eyes and took both her cheeks in his big hands.

            "Bulma-I want to bond with you."

            Slowly, he ran the tip of his nose from her chin to the top of her forehead, and then back again until his lips met hers for a second time.  After a few seconds, she opened her eyes and took his own face in her hands.

            "Bond…?" she asked slowly, then let her lips curve in an amused smile, "you've never been very good with bonding to anyone…"

            "That's not what I meant, _kuso baka_ ," His words grew thicker and more intense with every passing second, and the smile fell from her lips.  He drew her face so close to his that there were no other images before her but that of his black eyes, "I mean I want to bond with you…to see your thoughts.  You would see mine."

            Bulma felt her world diminish to the feel of him as he threw his leg around the back of the couch and came to kneel beside her on it…his hands never left her face.  Her mind spun in a million directions trying to decipher his actions, his words.

            "Wha-how…how do we do that?" she sputtered feebly, feeling her throat close in utter desire for him when he licked her top lip.

            "Just relax-" he whispered heavily, "it is a Saiya-jin mating ritual; you won't know how to do it.  Just let me…just let me."

            Bulma nodded, and barely had time to eek out a reply before his mouth descended on hers fully, drinking of her lips the way a child would drink from its mother.   _Damn those gentle kisses…they make me his… every time._  Vejiita let his arms come around her slowly, and he lowered both of their burning bodies down onto the soft couch.  Bulma felt him kick up his ki a couple of notches until it glowed a gentle gold-she widened her eyes even as he continued to make love to her mouth.  The last time he'd done that it'd been an accident, and she'd nursed burns from it for a week.  He seemed to sense her apprehension, and he released her lips momentarily.

            "I said relax…" he chuckled again and forced her to rest her head on the pillows of the couch.  Vejiita let his hands graze her sides, and then the soft skin underneath the light material of her sweater until his fingers seemed to burn at the very tips.  Bulma moaned softly against his mouth and tangled her fingers in his hair at the feeling . . .and then let her eyes snap open widely as she realized that his finger tips were indeed burning.  She whimpered and closed her hands around his face frantically.  He opened his eyes then, gazed into hers until it seemed that they were endless pits of black.  And then the world fell away around Bulma's body.  As she opened her mouth to scream in terror, nothing exited the gaping orifice of her mouth.  No sound, only the deafening silence of the void through which she now traveled.  The couch vanished beneath her, and she was suspended in darkness-

            A small boy, looking to be about seven or eight, appeared in the corner of the darkness, a gentle wind touching the flaming upward swoop of his hair.  A cape shrouded his back until he turned to her and held out his hand.

            "Do not be afraid  . . ." he said quietly, then their fingers touched, and Bulma felt her terror die away with the feel of the child's tender flesh.

            There were spaceships, thousands of them, shooting off towards the stars as fast as fireflies in the summer.  The small boy pointed to them, and spoke in Saiyago,

             _"ALL of them, Father?  Will ALL of them go to other planets? . . .some day I will become a powerful warrior, Father.  I am the chosen one . . .I will be the next Super Saiya-jin!"_

Then there was a grunt of pain, and the little boy's hand was ripped from hers in an instant.  There was a cackling laughter and a flash of purple and white.  Bulma shuddered at the sight of Furiza, and forced her eyes away from his repulsive, lizard-like form.  A hand came back to rest in hers . . .cold and clammy . . .wet and-and-

            She shrieked as the small boy lay at her feet now, his only support that of her hand.  He was bloodied from head to toe.  He gazed up at her through the sweat-soaked strands of his once magnificent hair and cried out in pain.  Bulma knelt before him and touched his face.

            "No . . .no, oh no!" She sobbed, seeing the man she loved within the young eyes that so helplessly begged her now for relief and salvation.  Voices plagued her head like disease, mocking her . . .mocking him.

             _Look at you now, little Prince!  Who'd have guessed your race would have been so easy to subdue!_   More laughter . . .that incessant laughter, joined by the leering of so many others- _little Saiya-jin Prince!  Monkey Prince of a weakling race!  Don't look at me like that, Monkey Prince . . .don't you know what I do to little primates who disobey me?!_

And then the boy was a young man . . .his features changed and deepened.  A scowl began to replace the once smooth, happy features of the boy's face.  He looked to be seventeen or eighteen, no more.  The young man glanced at her, a look of pure disappointment on his face, as though she had betrayed him.  He looked away . . .Vejiita looked away from her and crossed his arms, fading into the blackness behind them.  Bulma fell to her knees and buried her face into her hands as far as she could, trying to shield herself from the consuming dark.  Was this the dark corner of Vejiita's mind?  The part of himself he would not let anyone see?

            Red, so much red filled the space she occupied, the she had to now blink to see correctly.  Vejiita's still youngish form stood at an opposite corner, arms crossed in typical fashion.  And then he doubled over.  His anguished scream accosted her ears and ripped them to shreds.  Bulma screamed in protest and forced her body to run to him.  Once there, he turned to her and forced her away . . .

             _You idiotic animals!!_ A heavy foot came down upon his silky tail . . .Vejiita's voice became hoarse with pain- _So you think you won't be working for me now that your planet is gone . . .now that you've become Prince of a dead race, you bastard little maggot?!  You call this a TAIL, MONKEY PRINCE?!_

And then he lay before her, his tail limp and defeated across his belly; slashed beyond recognition as an appendage, and a clump of bloody mess.  Vejiita twitched in an unconscious fit of fever, and Bulma sniffled, reaching down tentatively to touch his soaking forehead.  Once she had made contact, he arched his back and cried out . . .tears streaming down his face.  And then he was gone once more.

            "Oh, my Kami . . ." she whispered, wiping some more of the wetness from her own cheeks. 

            And then, there was Chikyuu-sei . . .green and radiant in all its glory.  And Son Kun, standing not one hundred meters away, facing Vejiita.  There was a look of blood on their faces . . .of death and rage that could only be mirrored by one of their kind.  Then, there was a golden glow, and Son Kun was a Super Saiya-jin.

            Vejiita's enraged scream filled her ears, her heart.  Bulma felt his anger as if it were becoming her own emotion, and not his.  The tearing sound of his voice made her tears spill down her hot cheeks and hit the sand beneath her as loudly as coins against a tile.  His pain, his humiliation, his rage . . .all of it was becoming a part of her.  Moving inside of her like a storm, Vejiita channeled all of his being into her mind.

            She sobbed aloud with the intensity of it, and clutched at the material of her sweater, trying desperately to ease the flaming pain in her stomach.  And then it was gone, as suddenly as it had begun.  A soothing blue light began to fill the hot agony in her soul, and Bulma lifted her head, panting heavily with exhaustion.  A pair of white boots stood before her lowered eyes, and then a gloved hand reached down to her.  She took it, and was lifted into the arms of Vejiita, perhaps a few years younger, but still the man she had come to know him as.

            And then his lips were upon hers . . .soft and inviting as they always had been, though his exterior was hard as a rock.  It was as it had been the first time.  His hands unsure, though insistent--and his body resistant, but heavy with desire.  And his thoughts ran fluidly through her mind, like the gentle trickling of a stream . . .

             _There is too much at stake for me . . .for her.  If I give my heart-usari tolenga ya-if I give her my heart-everything I ever cared for is dead, gone-if I give her my heart-it would hurt too much to lose her . . .perhaps I truly am weaker than I thought-if I give her my heart-I am no more than dust in the wind-I am dead.  And so is my heart._

But his hands would not agree, nor would his body, or his mouth.  Bulma felt her tears mingle with the sweet taste of their intertwined tongues, and the taste of him.   _Vejiita, my Kami, forgive me.  I could never understand._

            And then, the blue faded to darkness, the dark into the light.  And Bulma felt the soft couch under her body again, and the heat of his heaving chest against hers.  Sweat soaked both of their bodies, and their mouths were barely touching.  A scowl was not present on his face, and it was the finest phenomenon she had ever laid eyes upon.  Vejiita's black eyes scanned hers for recognition, for safety, and she touched his face tenderly.  There was silence in the room, save for their heavy breathing, and Bulma took his face in her hands, bending it down and kissing his forehead.

            "Vejiita," she whispered against his burning skin, "h-how . . .what happened?"

            His head rested on her chest, and he brought his hands back to her sides; squeezed them tightly.

            "Gave you-" he took a deep breath and swallowed, "I transferred my ki-took yours.  In this, we have shared our memories, our thoughts-our very existence.  And we will share it now, forever."

            Bulma traced the back of his neck against his hairline and gazed up at the ceiling, taking in his information.  Confusion still hinted on her brow, and she nuzzled his ear.

            "Now what?" She whispered in reply, still breathing as though she had been underwater the entire time.  She traced a finger up the fine lines of his back, felt him shiver underneath her touch.  He groaned softly and lifted himself up.

            "You will see . . .soon enough," the smirk had returned, and Bulma could not help but smile in return.  She was at least grateful that the nightmare of his memory was over.  And then her smiled faded.

            "I have seen all I need to see," she said, her voice tainted with a sorrowful regret, "I am guilty of too many things.  But most of all that I was unwilling to see why you . . .why you are . . ."

            "It is done," he interrupted with a heavy hiss, "speak no more of it-tonight at least." Vejiita lowered his mouth to her neck and made a trail of kisses down to her collarbone, "to finish the ritual, Chikyuu-jin, we must mate." He brought his head up to face her again, and his eyes glinted in the light.  Bulma smiled, and remembered the little boy in her vision . . .then the young man; both of them beaten and bloodied before her like meat.  She creased her eyebrows and let her smile die, then touched his face once more.

            "I will never hurt you, Vejiita," the hushed tone of her voice echoed lightly against the walls of the room, and his jaw clenched.  He then seemed to dangle off the edge of control, until it was regained in his eyes, and he nodded.

            There were no more words as they helped each other rid themselves of all the restrictions of clothing.  Vejiita wasted no time tonight, no time . . .as the searing heat of him rested between her thighs, Bulma felt her hips rise to him almost of their own free will, and she embraced his hips with her legs.  Sliding into her with the ease of breathing, and a low moan, he suddenly snapped his head down and sunk his teeth into her neck . . .the exact same spot as he had so many years ago.  She bit her lip to avoid the scream of pain, and then pleasure that bubbled inside her throat, and dug shaking fingers into his back.  Her body began to respond to him more quickly than she was sure it ever had, and her arms fully encircled his neck, hanging on for dear life.  And then, a voice rumbled in Bulma's mind, her heart . . .but not her ears.

             _That's right . . .you'd do well to hang on tight this time.  I don't know if I can be gentle tonight . . ._

Bulma gasped at the tingling sensation it sent through her head, and fought wildly to understand how . . .how she could hear his voice as he stared at her and did not move his lips except to dance with her own.  Her eyes must have given her away, and Vejiita chuckled aloud.

            "Don't be afraid," he smirked again, and she nearly bucked him off of her in annoyance.  He laughed softly and claimed her mouth again before she could respond.  And he had spoken the truth-as his hips rocked against hers, his thrusts became more intense, more heated.  It had never been this way,  _ever._   And Bulma reveled in it--in the sheer primal force of his need for her, and her desire for him.  They began to breathe in perfect synch with one another.  Each of his thrusts were met with hers, and she saw him clench his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut as he threw his head back and growled.  Bulma let her eyes shut, as she could no longer keep them open due to the heat of her own blood.  As Vejiita lowered his neck again and buried his mouth in the crook of hers, she heard his voice again, but did not feel his mouth move against her skin.

             _Cry out, Bulma . . .you know you want to.  Just cry out, just once . . .let it be my name._  She could hear his evil smile even in her mind, marveling at this new wonder, she couldn't help but let a small giggle spread in her throat,

            "I can't . . ." she replied, the heavy lust in her voice evident, "Trunks-!"

             _Let  him hear it . . .maybe he'll learn something.  _And the both of them laughed aloud, but Bulma playfully bit at his ear.  He chuckled in her mind again,  _yes, bite me . . .you remind me of a Saiya-jin female when you do that . . .do it again._   Bulma raised her eyebrows and then closed her eyes as he continued to thrust into her, and he gripped her hips possessively,  _do it again-_ he spoke to her again, and she complied without any more hesitation.  She bit a little harder on his ear, and then down to the corded muscles of his neck.  He grunted aloud and ground himself against her harder as she bit down.  She made sure not to break his skin . . .but let her tongue sooth the new indentation by running it across him.  The force of their lovemaking made her close her eyes once more, and she reached down, gripping his backside and forcing it against her.  Their soft noises of pleasure brought each to an apex of enjoyment, and Bulma felt Vejiita brace himself against the other end of the couch.

             _You're so insistent tonight, chibi onna,_ he chuckled again,  _come on, then . . .finish it with me-come with me this time, Saiya-jin no oujo . . .tell me when._   Bulma moaned softly in his ear, and tried to voice an agreement.  It seemed to be enough for him, and he quickened his pace.  The very feel of him sent her over the edge, and she released a cry that reverberated in the living room.

             _Now . . .now now NOW!_   Her mind cried out to him, and he heard it, as clearly as she had heard his voice.  The surprise in her veins mingled with her impending release, and she cried out again, this time letting his name slide from her lips like a sweet honey.  Vejiita growled aloud into her neck and held himself inside her for a moment as he finished his own release with her.

            In the afterward, moments passed before Vejiita could gain enough strength to lift his body and shower her face and neck with kisses.  Bulma accepted his offering with joy and met his mouth again.  Slowly, she pulled a soft blanket from the head of the couch and wrapped it around them.  Leaning back, and cradling his head on her chest, she stroked his back.  The scars that had always marred his magnificent skin suddenly did not seem so foreign to her any longer.


	6. Ursha Men Tonora

            The morning was chilly...and in its still, dim light, Vejiita lay with his eyes to the ceiling.  He'd been laying awake now for nearly an hour, listening to the Chikyuu-jin morning grow around him like a burning ember.  He'd told himself ten years ago that he'd never be able to get used to their mornings-and he never had.  Vejiita's body was still tuned to the hot mornings on his home planet, and the heat of the sun even in late hours of the night.  Vejiita-sei's sun shined for 30 of the 32 hours that made up one day, and the sky had always burned red with its fury.  But here...here on Chikyuu the sun was not quite so red, not quite so scorching.  With a curse, Vejiita let a shiver rip through his torso at the gentle breeze that coursed through the open bedroom window.  Beside him in the bed, Bulma stirred quietly, making a soft noise of content.

            Though last night had been one of the most intimate of his entire life, Vejiita was still confused as to why he had even toyed with the idea of bonding with his mate.  He was sure of what his reasoning had been last night...he was even sure of the truth behind it.  But he was unsure, however, of how his lust-maddened mind had taken over his rational one and given himself-fully and completely to his woman.  Vejiita had never belonged "fully and completely" to anyone.  Not even in his darkest hours as Furiza's angel of death had he ever belonged to that bastard...not really.  His heart had always been his-or what had been left of his heart by the time he'd come to Chikyuu.  Vejiita shifted gently in the bed and rested the palm of his hand on his bare stomach.  His own fingers traced a few of his scars, remembering the thoughts in Bulma's mind as she'd done the same.  Did she finally, truly understand?  Would she stop wondering why he sometimes faded away...sometimes pulled away back into his dark soul and hid?  And now, did he understand?   The visions he'd seen from her memory had stirred within him a small bit of happiness and contentment.  Her childhood was simple enough...much less traumatic and dark than what she had seen in his memory, he was sure.  Vejiita had to smirk as he recalled her various journeys with that moron Kakarott trying to find Dragonballs.  How many times had she outsmarted her enemy and saved the asses of those other idiots?   He placed one arm underneath his head and thought about her memory of love...

            Was what he had seen in Bulma’s memory truly the definition of love?  He could never be sure, of course…he’d never even attempted at opening his heart wide enough for such an emotion to become part of him.  Love was a word he did not know until he’d met her…heard her say it so many times about that ridiculous mate she’d been with before him.  But her words had never held any substance…any idiot with a pair of eyes could tell she’d never been truly happy until she was rid of that nuisance.  One memory stood out with painful clarity, and each time he thought of it, he had to fight back his choke of disgust.

            Bulma’s beautiful and gentle body ravaged and used in such a way…Vejiita squinted in the dim light as he unsuccessfully tried to fight the image out of his mind; the image of her laying beneath that waste of life in a crumpled, defeated lump.  Then the pain afterwards…the indifferent way in which her previous lover had disregarded her comfort and need.

            And then there was her memory of their first meeting…their first encounter.  How seemingly harsh words had turned to pleas for his touch, and finally the heated cry of his name.  Vejiita shuddered himself with the imagery of it, and closed his eyes.  Then there was the pain of her heart every time he closed her off-every time he had ever spoken to her in the heat of his own discomfort and said things no one should have ever said to their mate.  And the way she’d been stung when he’d concealed his joy at becoming a father and instead acted distant…indifferent…cold.

            As the light from the window began to get brighter, Vejiita glanced at the clock by her side of the bed.  6:13 A.M.  It was late in the morning, by his standards, and normally he’d have been up an hour or so ago.  But exhaustion from the previous night’s activities had forced him to remain nearly comatose for at least five hours.  At least it was not a workday…the woman would not be waking up in half an hour, and the brat would not come bounding into their room demanding breakfast.  After a few instances of this fiasco, Vejiita had taken to waking at least an hour before the rest of the house.  Another breeze from the window made him flinch, and he pulled some of the warm covers over the goose bumps on his skin-a renewed scowl on his face.

            It was true…now perhaps there was a chance that they could salvage any and all aspects of their relationship.  But Vejiita was angry with himself for letting such emotions as had been displayed last night to take over what little sanity he still had left…since laying a hand on her that is.  He rolled his head to the side and let his eyes travel over her.  It didn’t matter what time of day it was, did it?  She always looked so vibrant and full of life.  Vejiita propped himself up on his left elbow and gazed down at her.  The way her skin glowed in the growing light of the early morning threatened to entice him down into her—away from reality and the stinging sensation of really being alive…of really being afraid.  She took his hell away from him, taught him to know what it really means to be loved and cared for.  And every time…every time he’d spit it back in her face as if it meant nothing to him, though he could barely contain the fact that it meant everything.  But the stones that still lay scattered inside his stomach had forced him to remain far away from any attachments that could potentially injure him if taken away.  He’d learned to do that by the age of twelve.

            And now she could read his mind, as he could hers.  Had he truly bestowed upon her a blessing, or unknowingly spited her with the gravest of curses?  Vejiita ground his teeth together, knowing that his choice to bond with her could never be taken back, and that Bulma would ultimately love him even more, or hate him with all the strength in her body for what he had done.  Yet…he intended to protect himself in either outcome-to make the best out of either situation.  He would never be defeated…in body or in mind…ever again.

 

#

~~~ Tenkaichi Budoukai-minus three days ~~

 

            Bulma shut the generator panel as thunder cracked above her head.   _Better to be safe than sorry..._  If the lights did indeed go out during this storm, at least they wouldn't be left in the dark.  Rain began to fall over the vast roofs of their home as quickly and as quietly as a feather falls.  Bulma glanced around her as the storm began its assault on the earth.  She wondered when, exactly, her husband her son would emerge from the GSR.  Since there was no back-up generator inside that blasted room, the two of them would be groping around in the dark if they lost power.

            A soft hiss came from the other side of the living room, and Bulma craned her neck around to see Trunks come bounding out of the GSR.

            "Kaasan!!" he shouted, his lavender shaded hair falling into those intense eyes like rainwater.  Bulma thought then, that he needed a haircut, desperately.  She smiled, as he did not notice her in the living room, "Mooooooooom!! Mom, Mom!"

            "Over here, Trunks!" She called, laughing quietly, "What is it, sweetie?"

            Trunks stopped in his tracks and swerved around to face his mother.

            "Mom!  Can I pleeeeeeease go outside in the storm??  The last time there was a big one like this coming, I shot four hundred bolts of lightning out of the clouds!  Tousan said it 'sharpens my refulexes' er…something!"

            Bulma laughed aloud and slowly made her way over to the energized child.  She put her hands on her hips and smiled.

            "Reflexes, Trunks…and…I don't know, it seems awfully sharp out there.  I don't want you getting hurt-!"  _Relax…you know lightening couldn't hurt him in a thousand years._  Bulma gasped quietly as Vejiita's voice invaded her mind quiet abruptly.  She'd thought, over the course of the past few weeks, that she'd gotten used to his daily interruptions in her thought process…but in reality it had become increasingly more disturbing.  It was as if a paradox of emotion was constantly present in her body…from loving the way his words pleasantly caressed the far corners of her mind and body, to being frightened by the harrowing imagery that made up Vejiita's memory.  Trunks' protests drew her attention out of the darkness.

            "Please, Kaasan?" He pleaded heartily and clenched the still small fists at his side.  Bulma felt her mouth curl in a smile despite the desire to protect her only son from all harm.  Vejiita was right anyway…a cloud to ground lightening bolt probably did not equal even half of the energy level that Trunks could emit from his very palm.  She closed her eyes briefly and nodded.

            "Alright, but-" Trunks yipped in delight and hurried towards the back of the house.  After a few moments, Bulma heard the back door hiss shut, and she shook her head.  As subdued as the air of the living room seemed to be, it suddenly became darker and heavy with the impending storm.

            The presence of Vejiita's body seemed to fill her entire existence with some kind of thick pleasure and comfort.  He was being very quiet as he approached; stealthy as a cat just as usual.  Bulma swerved around to see him behind her.

            "Ha!" She exclaimed, pointing a steady finger at his chest, "now I can feel you coming…you can't frighten me anymore…" her voice faded as he stepped closer, his body finally pinning hers to the smooth surface of the wall.  His face leaned into hers, and his mouth drew breath from her very being, "Vejiita?" She questioned, seeing sparks fly from within his mind.  His eyes seemed suddenly intense and frightening.

            "I've noticed something recently,  _Bulma-chan_ …" he murmured the words softly into her breathing space.  She lowered the lids of her eyes and tried to breathe deeply.  His close proximity would not allow it.  Bulma felt her body react to his actions electrically.  Her hands began to ache with anticipation as he dragged a gloved finger across her bottom lip.

            "What have you noticed, Vejiita?" She whispered with breathless abandon as his fingers slid lower across her collarbone.  His expression changed from mildly amused to erotically thrilled, and he pressed her more firmly against the wall.

            "Have you noticed, Chikyuu-jin, that making love seems to be, perhaps…" he hooked his neck around and licked the top of her ear, "more  _intense_  lately?" His last words were a groan, and Bulma shivered so powerfully that she could barely hear the thunder that now rumbled violently above the house.  She nodded her head.

            "I thought it was just me…"

            Vejiita chuckled aloud, his voice snarling and gentle at the same time…so typically  _Vejiita_.  Bulma watched his mouth move directly in front of her eyes.

            "Hardly…" he breathed out deeply again and gripped her wrist, pinning it to the wall…followed by the other, "So you see, I've figured it out."

            "Oh?" Bulma felt her body go numb to any other feeling besides that of his heated body pressed to hers.  She made an attempt to arch her back and mold her body to his, but he stopped her and chuckled again.

            “Patience, Chikyuu-jin…the brat will be gone for a while…” he paused and gathered both of her wrists in one powerful hand.  The other snaked up her thin tee shirt and seared the flesh of her stomach, “Do you understand it yet…?”  _You feel what I feel…I feel what you feel.  Double the pleasure, ne?_

            Bulma felt her own mouth curl into a smile and she tilted her neck to the side in order to allow his mouth access to the soft skin there.  His teeth nipped at the scar on her neck, and she whimpered above him, allowing her mind to caress his…

             _I can feel you…your…_even her mind struggled for words, and he laughed into her heart.

             _Just feel it…no more words…_

            His hands molded to her body, drawing from her the most illicit of responses.  Her mind played frantically with her excitement and his intense visions of what they were about to do.  She juggled the images inside, feeling his soul link to hers in the most erotic dance she had ever known.  Bulma let her voice give reality to her visions, and Vejiita gripped her backside in what seemed like a response.  But once again…his heavy grip remained as slow and gentle as that of a man who had never touched a woman in his life.

            He lifted her off the floor and somehow made his way through the furniture until he reached the couch.  They missed the soft cushions and Vejiita fell to his knees, the small woman locked tightly around his waist.

            Vejiita felt his world go white in response to her presence…and there was no other reality…no more fear…

#

 

            One hour later, Bulma lay on the floor, once again fully clothed.  The great Saiya-jin no Ouji lay between her legs, also clothed, and quite asleep.  It was the first time she'd ever seen him sleep so soundly…and at this particular time of night.  It was approximately ten o'clock, and Trunks had come bounding in the door half an hour earlier, apologizing for his long-term absence and heading upstairs quickly.  It seemed as though the intimate way in which his parents lay on the floor not only made him uncomfortable, as it normally would have, but also made him uneasy.  Of course, Bulma mused, he was not used to his father showing any sort of intimacy or emotion  _ever_ …not even to him.

            Bulma listened to the running water of the shower upstairs and then to the steady, deep sound of Vejiita's breathing.  His mind had been blank for nearly an hour now…no dreams, no thoughts-only the deep darkness of sleep.  She was grateful.  Seeing into Vejiita's mind during his soul wrenching dreams was one of the most terrifying experiences she'd ever witnessed.  It was even more heart throbbing than the initial vision of their bonding.

            There was a spark of red light in her mind…and she cringed.   _My Kami…please help this dream to be pleasant._   She begged the heavens for a relatively tame memory…but Vejiita's mind was suddenly a storm of light and dark.  It was a maelstrom of pain and loss-of fear and longing.  Bulma squeezed her eyes shut and tightened her fingers around the material of his shirt, preparing herself for another journey into the dark mind of the killer he once was.

            But she found that the deeper the dream went, the more miserable the mood became.  Rather than the half-mad, deranged portion of his mind that still existed within his memory-Bulma saw the cowering, fearful animal he had been when he'd lay at her feet during their bonding vision.  Her body tensed under his, and there was only the blackness of his mind-

             _He had never been so cold…so frightened.  There was a scream from somewhere in the darkness, and he echoed it, his harsh young voice brazen against the laughing forms that hung above him.  There was pain, and no relief…fear and no comfort._

_Then the memory was gone…the laughing green face of that monster Zarbon blurred and faded into the softer features of Vejiita's father.  And Vejiita cried out for his guidance, whimpered in furious anxiety as no words came from his own father's mouth.  Then there was her face…bright and blue as the morning.  It soothed him, comforted the wounds he had reopened with each step into his own mind.  And yet there was still fear…still the nagging, compulsive fear that one day she would be no more…one day he would be alone and afraid yet again._

_Finally his father spoke, harsh and stern,_

_"Shina lo kari, Vejiita!  Shina juten!"_

Remember who you are, Vejiita!  Remember your people!

_"Shini…SHINI KANTAK!  Gitta…torashi, Kantak!  Ursha men tonora!  Ursha...k-k-kulsaa!!  Ursha shitenkalai, Kantak!!!"_

I remember…I remember Father!!  But…I am afraid, Father!  Take away my fear!  Take it…help me!  Take away the pain, Father!!!

             _"Benda sola Chikyuu-jin, Vejiita!  Jinilach yo tonora…"_

            Kill the Chikyuu-jin woman, Vejiita!  Then you will be rid of your fear.

            " _Saresha…"_

She takes it away…

            " _Ienan, Vejiita!  Sugesha karak…"_

No, Vejiita!  She brings it back…

             _And then there was a flash of pain and pleasure at once.  They were together, as one…his hands touched her in places she had never known could be so amazing.  His mouth was an instrument of love against hers.  And his hands buried themselves in her hair as though it were sacrament to do so.  Then, his grip changed…and there was no more love.  A madness crept into his brain and ate away at his soul as though it had teeth._

_His fingers dug into her skin…that perfect skin.  Down onto her neck…into that beautiful skin that taunted him with every glow-every shimmer.  And her scream never escaped…and she was dead in his arms.  The bright red sheen of her blood caressed his limbs like a familiar dousing of pain.  But there she lay…dead by his own hand.  The fear was gone…and not the pain.  Tears burned the tissue of his eyes like fire…_

Bulma struggled underneath Vejiita's body in a frantic attempt to escape as the dream came to an end…

             _The fear was gone…and not the pain.  And he cried out to the gods for his own death…the sound as raw and untamed as that of a beast._

She screamed…screamed with all her will and might as she regained consciousness and clawed wildly at her own neck as if she expected it to be smothered in her blood.  Vejiita jolted and pushed himself up onto his fists, staring down at her with the wide, expectant eyes of a child… _he looks like Trunks._   Bulma gasped for air and placed a flat palm against his chest, willing him to let her go and pleading with him to be at peace in one soft movement.  He stared at her for a moment, desperate for cognition and explanation, until he realized what she had seen.

            Vejiita's eyes narrowed, and his mouth dipped into a sorrowful frown.  He pushed himself up off of the floor, breathing heavily and half awake.  Bulma stood with him…watched him stumble his way over to the wall and lean against it in an exhausted sort of fury.

            Slowly…very slowly she stepped behind him and steadied her own breathing.  The soft, barely audible whimpering of the man she had never seen cower in fear before  _her_  until now made her throat close.  With infinite care, she lifted her hands and touched the trembling, rock hard muscles of his back.  He hissed in what seemed to be pain, and she flinched, yet continued to stroke her soft fingers around to his stomach.  Carefully, she lay her cheek against his back…felt the pounding of that insatiable, dark heart.

            Through the heavy sound of his panting, she heard him whisper.

            "Ursha men tonora…"

            Bulma squeezed her eyes shut and bathed him in her tears.


	7. Wonder

            ~~There are times when I still sit around and wonder how he did it.  Wonder why he did it.  There were parts of me that were surprised…totally and utterly amazed that Vejiita could allow himself to be so completely taken.  Son Kun reminded me that Vejiita was strong, even in the midst of his madness; strong against his enslaver though he remained in his possession.  But I still find it hard to believe that Vejiita would have given himself, his very being, to a monster that promised him strength.  Perhaps he knew he would be able to control it, perhaps he knew that in the end he'd be able to try and destroy Majin Buu.  But I still don't understand!  He did not even hesitate to kill those people.  The energy had come streaming from his hands like a deadly waterfall of morbid glee.  That smile on his face as he stood there…no it was the smirk—I'll never forget it as long as I live, I swear.  And he did not even look at me, or even towards me as he did it.  It was as if his life here no longer existed; as if he had become the raging, half-mad animal he was when I first laid eyes on him from Baba’s Crystal Ball over ten years ago.

            But then again, there are remaining parts of me that were not surprised at all.  Vejiita's latent insanity has always been a thorn in my side.  I suppose I shouldn't say insanity.  It is more like a driving anger that pushes him into the limits of his own  _sanity_.  Anger has been a part of Vejiita's ingrained psyche now for nearly all of his life.  I take that back, probably all of his life.  And, I suppose, deep down inside it has always made him slightly unstable.  So, I truly am not that surprised.  I suppose I am more disappointed that he would let it take hold of him and make him so utterly power-hungry and selfish that he would throw away everything he has here…everything.

            I still remember that day as if it were just yesterday, though it has been nearly a year now since he died.  I cannot feel our bond any longer, and it makes me wonder if he did it on purpose—if he severed the connection simply so I would not have to endure the trials of hell with him.  I'm sure those were some of his last words to me in the fuzzy haze of consciousness that I picked up as his body disintegrated out there…somewhere.  I'm sure his mind went with his body…Vejiita has never done anything so noble in his entire life.  When I first began to know him, I am sure he would have rather been killed by Son Kun than sacrifice his own life for the sake of others.  And so the shock of what he had done and said during the last moments of his life has haunted me ever since the day.

            I want to speak with him so badly…I want to tell him that his gallant actions have touched the hearts of all of us, though when I think of it now I have to laugh.  He would not care…he does what he does for his own reasons, and not the reasons of others.  My eyes begin to tear and my chest seems to tighten until I can no longer breathe when I think of his face.  The pressure becomes greater as I realize I will not see it again for some time…and then the worst when I think of the way he used to hold me, used to touch me.  But I must not think of that now…I will not be able to finish writing.

            Though I can't help but be taken back to the night before the Tenkaichi Budoukai.  It was a breezy, humid night, and Trunks had been in bed for hours, dreaming of the victory that he would surely take the next day.  I still remember how I checked on him just a little after midnight.  I could swear he was smiling in his sleep.

            The night had been so inviting…so utterly warm and comforting that all I wanted to do was sit on the balcony and stare—just stare.  That's just what I did for about half an hour that evening, giving breath and life to my memories, and even my fantasies as I gazed up at the Chikyuu-jin night sky and slowly closed my eyes.  I began to realize, as I sat there, that girlish dreams and fantasies had eluded me for some time.  I feel as though I have had no inclination that I'm getting older until now, when my Prince Charming is dead and my son, who has never cried in his life, cries even now in his bedroom.

            Prince Charming…I hesitate to call him that.  I have to laugh aloud thinking of Vejiita as charming.  But he has always been the prince I dreamed of when I was younger.  Granted, he was brash, conceited, half-crazed with suppressed anxiety and sorrow…but as I sigh now thinking of it, Vejiita was simply a man I was destined to nurse back to health.  Many times, I've thought I had failed…but after Vejiita's sacrifice against Majin Buu, I admit I'm not sure anymore.

            That night on the balcony he had emerged from the shower, still sopping wet, and had knelt down beside me.  Once again, he startled me completely awake by leaning into my ear and whispering,

            "Shenta amat sha…amat to shial’ai…"

            Roughly translated;  _I want you in the worst way…so much that I am ashamed_.  I was confused at first until he reached behind me and hooked his powerful arm around my waist.  Then, with some measure of indecency and roughness, he shoved me against the outside wall of the house and used his deft fingers to push away the soft, fine material of my shorts and panties.

            He touched me with such fine and gentle fingers that night, doing as he usually did…which was bring me to climax without much effort at all.  Though that night, it seemed as though all his energy was spent on me…spent making me feel as though I had never felt so incredible in all my life.  I've never felt him thrust so powerfully…the way I had always wanted him to; you know, the quickie I'd wanted from the moment I decided I wanted Vejiita in bed.  And the most exquisite element of our lovemaking that night was that he did not break eye contact with me even once.  Those piercing orbs held more love, more passion and more lust than any I had ever studied before.  And his scowl…that ever present scowl was gone for the first time.  His face was nothing but a pleading request for anything and everything that I could possibly give him in this lifetime…and I think he sensed it, and feared it.

            I remember that he said my name so many times out there on that balcony…it was as if he was making up for all the times he had never called me by my first name.  He would just keep pushing me further up the wall, and hold me closer to avoid sending me flying through the wall and Vejiita's whisper echoed through my ears as he said it,  _"Bulma…Bulma, oh my gods…"_

            Remembering that sweet whisper now causes my chest to heave with desperate realization…the knowledge that he is no more.  Later, in our room, in the soft clouds of sheets he had said,

"I will be the victor tomorrow, Bulma-chan…you'll see…you will see me as the Prince I truly am, once and for all.  I swear to you."

And before I even had a chance to respond or tell him that I believed him, his mind told me that he already knew.  There hardly any more words that night after his manifesto…only the gentle, yet hoarse noises of our lovemaking.

I only know that the only reality I could sense was the caresses of his amazingly soft hands, and the sweet-yet powerful-thrusts of his only means of communication.  And after one session of mating, he slowed his pace and finished with, I think, the most deep and satisfied growl I have ever heard from any man, human or not…

"How do you do it?" He whispered, his lips inches from my ear…causing my now sensitive skin to shake and shiver like a child.

"Do what?" I had asked, barely able to speak without gasping for air.  And then Vejiita pushed himself up on infinitely powerful arms and gazed down at me for what seemed like an hour.  His lips began to tremble, and I saw within his mind the face of a small, frightened child; the ghost I had seen in my bonding vision.  Vejiita's whole body shook suddenly, and did not stop until he drew in a ragged breath.  I placed my own cool hands on his biceps and widened my eyes as I realized just how much he was convulsing with fear.  I began to shake my head until he finally moved his open, trembling mouth.

"How do you make…make…make me…love you?"

Vejiita's croaked confession was enough to send me reeling off the edge of joy and back into his waiting arms.  But I could see in his eyes that he was neither happy about his words, nor with himself.  The smile that had begun to form on my face faded, and I tightened my grip on his solid arms.  His thoughts were beyond muddled, and I was terrified to learn that I could not read them, let alone pick up exactly what had been going on in his mind at the time.  The scowl returned, but none of the raw fear and resentment had faded from his voice.

"Dammit…Bulma…I'm—not supposed to love.  I can't…don't you know that I can't?" His voice tore into the silent, stagnant air around us, and ripped a hole into my soul.  But somewhere deep in his heartless eyes I had still seen the truth, and I dared to test him further.

"Vejiita you could decimate a planet…you can damn well do anything you please."

He growled above me then, and placed both palms on the sides of my face.  The glare in his eye would have been enough to frighten me ten years ago…but not now.  Not now…

"Power…strength, will—you need things like that to survive, Bulma.  You don't need love—!"

"You need emotion, Vejiita!  More than just anger," I remember hissing my reply as though it was my last chance to speak with him…perhaps I had a premonition.  Vejiita's brows creased again, and he leaned in further towards my mouth, brushing the tips of his lips against mine in a painfully slow gesture.  His mind suddenly pricked at my own as if electric shocks had traveled the length of my spine and down to my toes…

I have more than anger, Bulma-chan…you know that.  You know what lies inside my dark heart…you know it.

_You call that a tail, monkey PRINCE??!?_

_Kari suln nan sh'an…_

_Usari tolenga ya--!_

_Ursha men tonora…_

The whispers in my head had begun to drive me insane, and I pressed my forehead to his, teeth clenched together.

“You control your own destiny, Vejiita…no one else controls it for you.”

But he did not reply that time, and his mind went blank to me…closing me off with one simple action.  His eyes became narrow slits, and for a moment I had thought he would push away from me and end this session of lust in less than a minute.  To my utter surprise, he did not…and instead he pressed his mouth to mine in a desperate search for control and domination.  I would not let him have it, and it frustrated him to the point of no return.  He had growled against my mouth and begun touching me in ways I’ve never understood…even now I don’t understand them.

I only remember the gasping, my clawing at his back as he entered me so forcefully that I felt like a born again virgin.  His hand grasped my thigh and lifted it to his shoulder, allowing him better access…and despite the thought behind his actions; I admit I didn’t dislike one moment of his powerful thrusts.  There was a desperate hunger in his lovemaking that night that I’d never witnessed before.  Always, with Vejiita, sex had been a ritual act in which we indulged ourselves fully…totally.  That night it seemed as though he just wanted release…his and mine.

We went at it for hours—relishing in the zeal of animalistic, primal sex.  I have to admit that when I remember it now, I become flushed and hot with desire for him.  Yet…the more I remember, the more upset I become in turn, and I curse myself for letting the suddenness of his death slowly tear me apart from the inside.

I still have Trunks though…I still have a piece of Vejiita though he is no longer part of my life, and will not be for some time.  I continue to wonder when I will hear from Dende…the next wish to be made is to bring back all those killed by Majin Buu—all those who fought and died with a decent bone in their bodies.  When they said those words, I couldn’t help but flinch…perhaps there is still a part of me that believes Vejiita is evil.  But I should know better…so much better than that.  Whenever I looked into his eyes…I could see it.  Those hands that touched me with such tender reserve and heated passion could not have belonged to an evil man…no there is no possible way.

None…

None…

I need to go see Dende. ~~

#

 

There was a quiet stillness to the air that afternoon, and the breeze drifted around Dende’s cheeks like soft fingertips.  He gazed out over his lookout and twitched his antennae briefly to scan the surrounding area.  Someone was coming…someone with hardly any ki signature.  And then Dende’s mouth turned up in a knowing smile when he realized it was she…

The soft hum of her aircraft whirred in the still air until the plane touched down onto the marble surface at his feet.  Dende made his way to the side of the craft, smiling gently as Bulma switched off its engine and dropped gracefully from the seat.  Their eyes met, and Dende leaned his staff back, the small bells on the bottom of his robe twinkled lightly in the quiet air,

“You’ve come about Vejiita…haven’t you?” He asked softly, the gentle tone of his voice sending a wash of silent relief through Bulma’s body.  He had that way about him…such a soft and gentle way,

“Uncanny…” she whispered aloud, then let her eyes travel over the intimidating Namek-jin in front of her.  Finally, her eyes hit the ground, and she took a deep breath…let it out quickly, “I have…how did you guess?” Bulma raised her eyes back to the Kami and watched as he smiled that knowing smile,

“It’s your face…I can see it in your eyes when you’re thinking of him,” he paused, tilted his head towards the archway, “why don’t we sit down?”

Bulma nodded in reply and followed the young Namek-jin over to the small stairway that lead into Kami’s old throne room.  They sat, and Bulma let her eyes fall to the smooth tiled surface, then scanned it for a moment as if it owed her some kind of explanation.  After a few moments of silence, she craned her neck up again and watched as Dende stared off into the cool breeze.  She pursed her lips briefly and then leaned on her knees,

“Will you give me a straight answer this time, Dende?  I just need to know if he’ll…” She stopped as Dende turned back to face her, a look of content on his face despite the arching of his brow,

“Vejiita’s soul went to hell, Bulma…there’s not much I can do to guarantee that he’ll be allowed to come back after Buu’s defeat.  You know I’m sorry…I wish I could be more reassuring.  I only know what I know…”

Bulma shifted where she was sitting and gulped down months of waiting…mourning…listening for any noise that resembled his voice.  Her mind swirled, careening downward with every word Dende spoke.  Bulma arched her own eyebrows and swallowed the lump of despair that was growing ever faster in her throat,

“And what is that?” she whispered, barely able to speak for fear of rupturing her swelling tonsils.  Dende took a deep breath and leaned forward on his staff, mimicking her position,

“I know Vejiita was a slave to his own selfish desires for a very long time…” he said gently, as if to soften the blow of his words to her heart.  And then, “I know that Vejiita’s heart was hard and black for most of his life, and that he refused to admit defeat or bow his head to anyone…not even the Kaioshin himself.” Bulma could not help but crack a sly smile as Dende spoke the last words.  Then the Namek-jin continued, “But I also know that Vejiita was a man who would not have let harm come to his own family if he could have done anything to prevent it…” he paused, and turned to a wide-eyed, yet subdued Bulma, “And that his own pride, the thing he held most dear to his heart, was laid to rest the day he met you.  I know that the demons of his past will never be put to death…but he was closest to peace, Bulma…when he held you in his arms.”

Bulma choked on her own breath and brought a hand to her forehead, unwilling to break down in front of the Chikyuu guardian.  Her own body failed her as she sobbed once, then stopped…composing herself.  The Namek-jin placed one warm hand on her back, and then she lifted her weary head,

“So, can you tell me, Dende…just this one thing…?”

“Of course, Bulma-san.”

“Was Vejiita a good man?” …Underneath the stone wall he’d become?  Underneath the murderous animal he had made himself…underneath the frightened child she’d seen in his memory…underneath the sick, twisted adolescent who’d been molded by Furiza…underneath the hard tar of his frozen heart?  Bulma felt her body tense as Dende smiled woefully,

“Bulma-san…would you have married an evil man?” Bulma blinked and allowed the tears to fall down her flushed face.  She smiled, and felt a warm blanket embrace her, then shook her head, “then…the answer is within the light I see in your eyes.”

#

 

~~After today's visit to the lookout, there is only one conclusion I can make…that Vejiita will return.  I can only hope that tomorrow, when Porunga is summoned…I will not be disappointed.  Vejiita is the other half of my soul.  The only words that register with me now are his words to me the very first night we made love…so long ago…

_Cande danmas Saiya-jin, danmas to giensha…_

When a Saiya-jin mates, he mates for life…~~


	8. The Way I Was Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As you come to the end of this tale, I’d like to note that I took several liberties with the return of the Z-Warriors’ return to Kami’s Lookout in episode 287 of the anime. Honestly, I just… God I was disappointed with it. So anti-climactic! So… I made it a little more dramatic.   
> I don’t own any of these characters, nor the universe in which they reside (this credit goes to Toriyama-sensei), but I have already professed to loving them, and I take this liberty with all that love in my heart. ^_^ Enjoy the ending of my very first DBZ fanfiction, written over 10 years ago

 

Vejiita ran his fingers along the rim of the Chi No Mizuumi, and then watched as the liquid dripped through his hand and back into the lake.  This place…where he had spent the last year of his "afterlife", had become so familiar that he was wondering if his entire existence on Chikyuu had not all been some sort of morbid dream; an illusion created by his sick mind to make up for all the years he had spent in his own private torture.  A light breeze washed hellishly hot air over his back and combed through his hair.  Sighing, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the pink sky…wondering what she was doing at this very moment.

Figment of his imagination or not, she had been the only real thing he'd ever had as his own…the only person he'd ever considered a friend…a lover…his mate.  Even as he thought of her, the intangible qualities of his illusory body would not respond.  How fitting that it should be his punishment here in Hell.  No body…and there was no one to really give a shit.  Not even Bulma…the woman he would grudgingly give anything to see at this very moment.  To touch…Vejiita growled and stood, began moving lightly through the terrain of Hell.

He thought of Trunks more often than he cared to admit.  The boy surely must have grown quite a bit in the year Vejiita had been away.  Gods only knew how powerful he'd become.  A brief image of the mirai boy who had come to aid them during the Android and Cell conflict flashed before him.  Taken aback by the heavy emotions the image stirred within his heart, Vejiita shook his head and recalled the real reason he was here…the reason he'd been sent to this virtual prison.

During the first week of his confinement, he'd been "sent" to the various planets he'd purged in the first half of his life as the (Mercenary) no Ouji…Furiza's lap dog.  The screams and pain that had echoed in his soul as he watched the helpless thousands die over…and over again still brought a shocking pain into his heart when he thought of it.  And then his first death, feeling that bloodless stab of embarrassment, that unbearable weakness as he lay at the mercy of Furiza stab through his mind over…and over.  And then to have to watch that fucking idiot  _Kakarott_  take revenge on the monster who had destroyed his people as though he had any right to!  As though he had any idea…any concept of what Furiza had truly been; the monster who had brought the mighty race of Saiya-jin to their knees using fear and trickery as his tactics.

Even now, when Vejiita thought of it he was infuriated—irate with the knowledge that he'd been unable to take revenge for a race who had worshipped him, placed all their faith and trust in a man they'd thought would lead them to greatness.  And every time he thought of it…he was thrust to the ground with the force of the Demon King’s fist.  This was his punishment, to relive the horrors of his dreadful life as though he had never even tried to be a different man…because he'd believed-close to the end-that men can change…Saiya-jin can change.

The images that haunted him the most were those of Bulma…broken and crying each time he'd abused her verbally or refused her attentions.  Each time he had scorned her or burned away her touch with his cold exterior was torture to relive.  The macabre dance of Vejiita's ghostly past slid by him every waking moment.  And to not be able to run away, to not have the ability to shield his nonexistent eyes—this was the essence of his hell.

A reverberating growl suddenly echoed through the thick clouds and into Vejiita's aching soul.  He tried desperately to cry out, to make it stop.  But it continued until all the beings of hell were subdued…and Vejiita knew what was happening.

"Saiya-jin no Ouji…bring yourself to my throne room.  We have business to discuss."

 

#

 

The Demon King’s antechamber was seething with pain and regret.  It was as though the very walls had been built from the suffering and woes of the souls that inhabited his realm.  He sat, enthroned on his great seat of bones, and pointed at Vejiita—then beckoned with his huge finger.  If Vejiita had been able to feel his heartbeat, he would have been sure that it would have leapt from his throat.  He stepped forward.

Since his body would not respond to his fear…it continued.  There was a rush of heat and Vejiita felt the Demon King's hot breath cascade over the walls of the room,

"You have many names, Prince Vejiita…many faces and many names indeed." He flipped through a large book positioned on his lap, then shut it…the sound reverberated for what seemed to be miles around them.  The book was handed to a smaller demon to the side of his throne.  Ou-sama’s eyes lifted from his lap, and their piercing red aura shot directly through Vejiita's own gaze.  The Saiya-jin Prince felt a trail of cold fear stab him in what should have been his gut…but he would not falter.  No, not here, even in the depths and clutches of evil itself he would not falter, "Tell me  _Prince Vejiita_ …which name would you give yourself?"

There was a gush of fiery air and blistering bitterness in the Demon King’s voice, and Vejiita paused before answering.  Finally, he found within himself the courage to speak.

"Is there a list of options, Ou-sama?" He regretted the spark of irritation and insolence in his voice, and hoped that the Demon King had not taken notice.  But there was a deep growl from his throne, and he crossed his arms.

"If you'd like one…why, of course, I can give you a few to choose from." There was a long pause, and Vejiita waited patiently, wishing he could feel his own face fall into his characteristic smirk.  The Dark King shifted in his seat and rested his chin in his hand. "There is of course the Prince you once were…the man whose people would have kissed the very underside of his boot if they'd had the chance.  Or perhaps the crazed, psychotic murderer you became after surviving under Furiza's reign for nearly twenty years—?"  There was another pause, and it seemed as though the King was studying Vejiita's reaction to his statements thus far.  Finally, he cleared his throat.

"After which, you succeeded in becoming the single most self-absorbed creature I have ever witnessed…human or no.  An uncaring friend, an insensitive lover, and of course let's not forget a neglectful father you had become.  It was only in the last few years of your life, Vejiita-sama, that I saw any change in you…any chance for some kind of redemption.  The real question here is not what do you call yourself…but rather—did you, too, see the change in your cold heart?"

Vejiita stood in plastered silence until he could register the thoughts raging through his long-tortured mind.  He lifted his gaze towards the Demon King and filtered every thought through his voice.

"I fail to see the reasoning behind this little interview, Ou-sama…" Vejiita regretted his arrogance, but in all honesty could not prevent it.  The Demon's eyes narrowed, "if it is to humiliate and belittle me, have no fear.  You have succeeded in doing so for a year now.  I feel I have more than begun to understand what it is I must do with my time in this wretched place.  As per the answer to your question…of course I did…" Vejiita choked on his own uncertainty, ready to admit the things he had never admitted before in his life on Chikyuu, "There is no doubt that the man I was when I died the second time was not the same man I had been before.  I had…changed in a way I did not understand…"

"And so you allowed yourself to become possessed by Majin Babidi so you could realize your own dreams…forgetting those of your loved-ones and your friends?   _I,_ Vejiita-ouji, fail to see the reasoning behind  _that_." The booming inside the room stopped once the King had finished his tirade, and Vejiita squinted against the heated breath in his face.  Reluctantly, he continued.

"My reasons for allowing the Majin Babidi to grant me power went against my better judgment.  Regretfully, in a fit of anger and jealousy, I allowed his magic to course through me.  You are aware I'm sure, Ou-sama, that I was not totally possessed by Babidi.  This one part of my sanity, I kept.  And, you’ll recall that—that I sacrificed everything to atone for my sins.  For my fa-family…"

Ou-sama chuckled heartily and nodded his head, crossing his arms over his massive chest once more.

"So you did, Ouji-sama!  I commend you for that, at least.  But, I must ask my previous question again, I'm afraid.  You see I summoned you here for one purpose.  Your soul is at stake, Vejiita. 

“How would you like another shot at Majin Buu, Ouji-sama?  We can send you back to Earth, in your own body!  But you must use it for good, as you tried to when you died.  What would you say to this, Prince Vejiita?”

“I would give everything in my power to give for this opportunity, Ou-sama!”  Vejiita replied, without hesitation.  “Though, I have little to give.”

“Hah!”  The Demon King burst into laughter.  “Indeed.  But you shall be granted the chance, nonetheless.  It seems your people need you, Ouji-sama.

“Oh, and one last thing.  Your friends and family are gathering the Chikyuu Dragonballs again, and they have one wish in mind; to bring back all those who died at the hand of Majin Buu, and the behest of his evil.  Their stipulation?  All reincarnated must have died with the support of an inherently good soul behind them.  Even now, Vejiita-sama…the Kai themselves speak of your case.  It seems the Chikyuu guardian Dende is in good spirits…he anxiously awaits your resurrection once this mess is all over.  Provided  you can help to end it for good."

Vejiita stood fixedly in position before the Demon King.  So they were wishing back all the good-hearted fighters?  Clever indeed…he wondered what Bulma thought about all of this.  Millions of thoughts clouded his mind, and Vejiita could not find it within himself to think of an answer for the Demon King.   _Which name would I choose for myself?_   His soul staggered and faltered; if he'd have had the ability to form tears, then now—for the first time in a very long time, he would have cried.

_I do not know…I do not know the name to give myself._

  _Kulsaa, Kantak.  Sabent'ai…_

Help me, Father.  I am lost…

Vejiita lifted his eyes again and hoped that he looked more confident than he surely did feel.

"I have no name, Ou-sama.  The Saiya-jin I was…and then the man I became were two different beings.  If I were to be reborn, I know now that my life could not…would not be able to continue where it left off.  I gave my life protecting the people I lo-love…" Vejiita lowered his eyes in response to the damnable emotion building in his voice, and then shook his head violently.  His eyes rose again, "I am not a man of empathy!!" He bellowed, "I never have been…and there is no way I can change that.  But I do know that it is possible for me to c—to care.  I cannot promise that I will always be the kind of man my mate needs, or the kind of father that my son deserves…but I know that I could never—never be the thing I was in the past.  I have no name, Ou-sama.  I intend to make a new one."

The Demon King’s eyebrows rose indignantly, and he smiled very sweetly…or as close as his face came to the word.

"Very well, Saiya-jin no Ouji…I will speak on your behalf."

 

#

 

Bulma stood, watching the Chikyuu Dragonballs glow softly as though they had been lit with the most tender candle.  She gazed into the hypnotic stars that decorated the orange ball and allowed a tear to release itself from her huge blue eyes.  Kami’s Lookout seemed bleak to her, despite the genial air that resonated from her friends.  Buu was gone now, and his evil with it.  And despite the cheer of joy in her heart, and her girlish declaration of love at the news of Buu’s defeat, there was a sprinkling of doubt in her body – in her heart.  A heart that ached for one thing – just one man.

Today was the day, and this was the moment.  In fact, now that it was here, she could barely believe that she was standing here now—waiting to see the outcome.  Bulma bit her lip and let her gaze travel to the group of people gathered around her.  Nearly all those who were not fighters had been resurrected already.   The only missing seishi who had not joined them at the Lookout were Son-kun, Satan, Dende, and…  And--?  There was one left who may or may not return, wasn’t there?  She knew he’d paid his due; knew it from the depth of her soul but…

Bulma still remembered the day the wish had been decided.  Of course, it was a stellar idea Goku had reasoned.  Once they had wished back those whose souls were truly good, what had they to worry about?  No more incidents…specifically the events that had transpired after Vejiita had become possessed.  Her heart still trembled, wondering if he truly was the man many thought him to be.  He could not be…  _No!_   Not anymore.

Trunks, who had been revived during the first wish along with Goten, gripped her hand and smiled up at her.  At nine years of age, he seemed so mature…so comforting.  Shouldn't she be comforting him?  Bulma squeezed his hand in return and smiled back, attempting to conceal the fresh torrent of tears that was threatening to flood over her eyelids any moment.  The last thing her son needed was to see her cry.  She was supposed to be confident -- hopeful that Vejiita's past would not prevent him from becoming something else in the future.  She was supposed to be reassuring Trunks that his father was most assuredly coming back, and that at the end of the day they could join the rest of the seishi in celebrating such happiness and victory.

And what was she doing?  Squeezing his hand as though he were the one to be doing the reassuring, and gazing at him longingly as though he had the power to bring back her Prince—to set right the many things Vejiita had done wrong.  And as Bulma gazed at Trunks, she thought that perhaps…just perhaps, he truly  _was_  the catalyst that had begun and aided Vejiita's slow but sure transformation.  Perhaps it was looking at Trunks nearly every day for over nine years that had softened the ice that had become his heart…made red again the black blood that flowed through his aching veins….

"Bulma-san!  It’s Kibito-san, they’re coming!" Chichi's voice shot through her half-conscious delirium of anxiety and brought her back to reality.  Trunks's hand still clutched tightly in her own, she nodded slowly, stepped forward and gulped deeply.  Trunks took this opportunity to scoot closer to her and rest his head upon the side of her hip.  She held him closely, and tightened her grip on him as he gazed up at her.

“Kaasan…?  Tousan will come back with Goku-san.  He will.  Don’t be upset.”

Bulma smiled through the new and hot tears that began to flow down her cheeks.  She hugged Trunks closely to her leg.

“I know Trunks.” Her hair blew back from her face as a great gust of celestial wind shot through the open arena of the Lookout.  There was a great, unexpected rumble from behind Kami’s Palace.  One that no one had expected.  The Dragonballs were flashing, and the light blended into the pulsars that exuded from the from them.  The lights flashed once and then shot back inside the trinkets as though it had never been there.

Bulma gulped as her son hugged her more tightly and whimpered.  The ground was shaking…and the eyes of Son Kun's wife darted around like those of a mouse.  Her small son clawed at her much the same way Trunks was clinging to Bulma now.  The world around them seemed to condense and separate with the power of life energy radiating from it.  Bulma did not move…only held her son more tightly and shut her eyes again.  With one great, long groan the earth stopped moving…and there was the silence of a dead man's grave.

ChiChi's voice was the first to make any kind of inquiry.

"What in Kami's name happened?"

Bulma opened her eyes and squinted against the gusting wind.  Soon enough though, the rapidly shifting air had calmed, and a bright burst of light appeared.  Bulma shielded her eyes and that of her son, only to see the vague outlines and shapes of men take form before her.  Her tears blew from her cheeks as another gust tore at them, and she stepped back from the weight of it.

The intense light faded, and a great noise of celebration was heard as the many around her reunited with each member of the Z senshi.  In her overwhelming joy at seeing Son Kun, Bulma let go of her son for a moment to embrace the large man by the shoulders, and he leaned into her ear.

"Bulma-san…it's so good to see you." His whisper was beyond comforting, and Bulma clenched her teeth together before letting out a gut-wrenching sob.

"It's good to see you too, Son Kun."

"Kaasan…I feel Tousan!  I feel him!"  Trunks’ voice broke the air like glass, and Bulma brought her hardened eyes down to his lavender head and squinted, then licked her lips, shaking her head.  But she watched as Trunks's own eyes studied the air thoroughly, as though he were searching for his father via his mind…his spirit.  She saw him flinch, and his fist tightened around her fingers.  Out of the corner of her eye, Bulma saw Son Kun's eyes dance and flash all at the same time…and Gohan's…and even Goten's.  Kuririn-san clenched his fists and turned swiftly towards the center of the circle they had formed.  Bulma's head twisted gently from side to side, and she felt her heart thump wildly in her chest as the sky above them turned dark once again…

A great sonic boom sent each person present crushing forward onto their knees, and Bulma grabbed her son to shield him from whatever was about to happen.  Finally, the wind centered on the spot near the center of the circle, and a cry emitted from the hoarse and raw throat of some tortured being…but no.  She knew that bellow…she knew it as surely as she knew her own self.  The noise grew until it was barely tolerable…so powerful and full of weight that it sent her crashing to the ground so she was supporting herself with the palms of her hands.

An aura surrounded the maelstrom at the center of the circle and glowed with warmth and vibrancy such as she had never felt before.  Trunks dived beneath his mother and gripped her wrists.

"That's him, Kaasan!!  It's Tousan!!"

His words sent her mind reeling to the sides of infinity.  Why wouldn't she believe it?  She had to see him first…she had to touch him, to know he was real.  As the wind concentrated itself around in the center, Bulma found herself able to stand, and she watched as the others did the same.  Finally, the figure in the cloud was visible…and the image took her straight back to her knees.  Trunks touched her shoulder and gazed off into the light…

The shouting was less intense…its echo faded to a sound not so far away, and the light show diminished to a gentle glow.  And that tall flame of hair was visible…the small yet powerful frame of the man she loved more than life itself, more than she'd ever been able to understand.  The tears fell now, more freely and more easily.  Her throat throbbed and ached with the joy of seeing his form become reality before her.  Every other person present was no more than backdrop now…except her son, the outward manifestation of their passionate meeting so many years ago—their love made flesh.  Bulma sobbed aloud and threw her fist to the ground, cursing whatever force had kept her so afraid for so long…she should have known.  Trunks was stroking her shoulder tenderly, reassuring her the way she wanted to comfort him.  But the sobs would not permit it…her relief was so great.

The air around them became silent, and the only noise was that of the shifting bodies of the warriors surrounding them.  Her body shook with it, and yet she did not lift her eyes.  And Trunks's soft caresses stopped.  The hard thump of a boot stopped right before her body, and she tensed, sobbing softly.  There was a rush of essence as the figure before her knelt on one leg and breathed deeply…inhaling her own aura as though it was the only thing he needed to survive.  When his hands came to her shoulders, she gasped, and Bulma was filled with the sensation that perhaps none of it was real…perhaps her mind was taking her far away from the grief she was truly feeling.  But then hands worked their way to her neck, and forced it upwards until she was looking directly into his eyes.

Silence…and more silence as his dark eyes searched hers for the right words, the right gesture; as he had never been very good with words…  Her sobs began to subside, and she watched his right eyebrow twitch slightly and arch upwards until he was smirking just so—.  Vejiita removed one gloved hand from her shoulder and placed a finger delicately on her chin to tilt it up further.  He opened his lips, breathed on hers ever so gently.  More silence…until,

"Pathetic human emotions…"

The sound of his voice made frazzled strings of her nerve endings, and she burst into a heavy half-laugh, half-sob.  His own brow unknotted and in one beautiful second, a smile ( _Kami-sama!  A real smile!)_  grew on his mouth until it was all she could see…all she knew.

Goku grinned as Bulma threw herself at the Saiya-jin Prince, and he stood, spinning his blue-haired mate in the air as though she were the most prized possession on Chikyuu.  He caught Trunks's eye from where the boy stood by his parents.  Goku smiled, and the boy returned the favor, and then winked until his own body was lifted from the ground.

"Tousan!!" The joyful voice echoed in the small field, and Goku raised an eye heavenward as his own wife rested her head upon his broad chest.  Lifting an eyebrow, he could just barely make out the jubilant echoes from one very pleased Namek-jin boy.

 

#

 

"He told me to make a new name for myself…" Vejiita's hushed, low whisper came out of the darkness later that night.  Bulma turned in his arms and faced him, shaking her head in slight confusion.

"What do you mean?" She asked, grazing a finger down one side of his handsomely angled jaw.  The man before her shifted slowly in the bed and rested one palm on the small of her back, pressing her closer to his heated chest.

"I mean the Daima-ou…" he paused, traced a slow circle where his thumb was positioned, "for a year I saw what I had been.  For a year I didn't know how to change it…but it didn't seem to matter as long as I was there, in hell.  When he told me…about the Dragonballs I knew it had to change.  But I'm…gods, I'm…" he stopped, and pressed his forehead to hers.   _I'm not sure how to do it…_

The voices came again, and she realized they were the same voices from his past that had been there all along—the ones she had first heard so many months ago.

_I'm not sure how to do it, Bulma…_

_You will find the way, my Dark Prince.  Just promise me you won't give up trying._

I can't…not anymore.  But I can't promise that I'll be everything you want me to be.  I can't change in a matter of days.

_Don't be in a rush, Vejiita…let the feeling come back slowly.  Old wounds take time to heal—and you have many._

_So do you…_

Bulma closed her eyes and bowed her head, brushing her nose against the fiery surface of his chest.  When she opened her eyes, he spoke aloud.

"Old scars never heal, Saiya-jin no Oujo…I wonder if you will always see them before you see me."

She lifted her head and brought a hand to his face.  Vejiita leaned his head into her palm and kissed the center of it.  Bulma fought back the tears threatening to spill onto their pillows.   _I cannot cry now…not now._   She took a deep breath, it almost seemed like a gasp.

"When I see you, I don't see anything but your eyes…and they tell me so much more than the scars ever will.  You should know that by now."

A short, heavy 'hmph' rumbled in his chest, and she grinned.  In the darkness, she saw a blue light radiate from underneath the sheets.  A small sigh exited her throat as his hand traced larger circles on her lower back now.  The warmth of his ki enveloped her in a warm embrace that rivaled his arms.  But as his limbs tightened around her, she knew nothing could ever equal them.

His mouth found hers despite the dark that surrounded them, and Vejiita wondered how he had existed so long without her beside him; without the soft, comforting blaze of her love to support him.  A chasm that had broken his heart very long ago suddenly seemed to shrink, to close rapidly…though not completely.  He crushed his lips against hers, hoping she felt his gratitude, and drank of the essence on which his entire existence depended.

His mate sighed against him and let her arms come around his neck.  Vejiita held her closely and rolled to his back, bringing her soft form on top of him.  He felt his body go numb to any feeling but that of her touches and strokes.  The kisses became more reckless, his hands became less gentle, but he could not help it.  Against his better judgment, he lifted his hands to the soft mounds of her breasts and stroked them tenderly.  When she whimpered against his mouth, the sounds sent kinetic energy surging through every vein of his aching body.  Vejiita pushed up from his back and lay her back down underneath him.

His mouth assaulted her neck as though it were his source of nourishment and life.  Her skin tasted of fruit and summer breeze kissed by the sunlight.  He imagined he were the sun…and she the soft sand of the southern beaches on Vejiita-sei that he remembered from his early childhood.  As she stroked his back, a strange and unusual feeling of tightness surrounded his throat and took hold of it.  Confused momentarily, he pushed it down and lowered his mouth to nurse upon her like a baby.

Bulma arched herself towards him slightly, enough to make him drag his tongue against the hardened tip of her breast, and savor the taste of it with every sensory function of his mouth.  She moaned so quietly that he had to strain to hear the noise, and it sent his body lower…to delve into her body as he had wished to do for some time now.  Her hips thrust upwards softly as he laid his lips on one silky thigh, and then the inner portion of it.  Vejiita took a moment to inhale deeply as she spread her soft legs, causing a wave of her scent to send him into a near euphoric state of arousal.  His eyes rolled back in his head for a moment, until he gained back his bearings and traced the tip of his finger against her.  Bulma protested with a child-like sob of insistent desire.  He wondered how much more she could… _would_  react.  His brows knitted together, and he let his mouth hang open just slightly as he pressed his fingers into her so slowly that he thought she would cry out.

Vejiita tilted his head curiously to the side and pressed further as she bucked towards him in a feverish fit of desperate need.  Each moan she emitted caused more blood to flow to his throbbing arousal, and he closed his eyes…finally gripping the sheets and pushing himself up to meet her eyes again.  They sparkled even in the dim light.  Without stopping his ministrations, he pressed his forehead to hers again and kissed the tip of her nose.  It was damp with the sheen of sweat already…

_You know how I feel about you, don't you chibi onna?_

Her voice giggled joyfully through the dark corners of his mind.

_Should I?_

Vejiita smiled widely in the darkness, then paused before he thrust his fingers into her very slowly once more.  She gasped against his mouth, and his smile faded.

_You are my sun…my moon, my very universe, Bulma-chan.  My soul reason for living…you gave me what no other being has given me before…a reason to go on.  You gave me a son; he made me see how life is not always hurt and pain.  I love you, Bulma-chan…did you know…?  Even if I can't say it aloud.  Ursha men shitenkalai…_

His mate's beautiful body trembled and shuddered with release as she cried out and pressed her hips against his probing hand.  Vejiita drowned himself in the noise as he captured her mouth again, devouring all that he could of her.  She caressed his face, drew him down into her with a terrifying sort of urgency that only he could understand…or feel in unison.

Reaching down, he brought her leg up to his shoulder and rested it there so that nothing would bar him, nothing could get in his way.  When Bulma whispered his name, a thousand prayers for sanctity and safety were suddenly answered deep within his crying soul, and he pushed himself into her with a sob dancing on the corners of his lips.

The tightness in his throat returned, and he suddenly realize what it was.  In nearly thirty years he had not shed one tear…not cried since he was a small boy.  To cry was to admit defeat…and now, in the bright sanctuary of her body and her mind, he let the hot tears flow.  Over his cheeks and onto her breasts, washing her in all the emotions he had not been able to give before…all the words he had never been able to say.

Bulma's opened-mouthed astonishment turned to hooded desire as he built up a slow and painfully affectionate pace of lovemaking.  His warmth filled her, made her sense his own bliss.  She wrapped the other leg around his waist, raked her fingers across the corded surface of his back, and pushed his face into her neck.  As her own tears washed away the scalding pain of his old scars, she heard him sob once—hoarsely—into her shoulder.  And his arms tightened around her to close any and all gaps between them.

Vejiita's pace quickened, and Bulma felt herself begin to burn upon the edge of more release.  His words echoed in her mind…and the knowledge that he did love her…that she was everything to him brought her crashing over the chasm of control.  Her body tensed for the second time and she cried out, closing herself around him until he was all she could feel, and all she knew.

His body reacted violently to her, and with a desperate cry he ground himself against her and finished with her in a storm of dream-like rapture.  As he collapsed against her small frame, she brushed her lips to his neck soothingly.

 _Let the tears come now, my proud Saiya-jin Prince…there is no one to see them but me._ And the words struck him so hard in the gut that he sobbed for a second time, then clenched his eyes shut and drowned his sorrows in the darkness.

An hour later, Vejiita took a deep breath and lifted his head from Bulma's shoulder.  His face was streaked with wetness and his cheeks swelled slightly with the strain of his muscles.  She touched him then, and the feeling was that of a cool breeze.

"You held that in for a long time…Ouji-sama." She whispered, kissing one cheek, and then the other.  Vejiita squinted and grazed her lips with his eyes…

"I can't ever do that again—"

"I know," a pause that strained on the edge of his apprehension, "do you still want to be the way you were before?"

Vejiita lifted Bulma's chin and pressed his nose to hers,

"If you mean…before my heart turned to stone?  Before the hatred of decades built a wall around my soul…before my life had become something that I will never be able to run away from--?" he stopped and leaned down to kiss her temple…

_Yes, Bulma-chan.  I want to be just like that._

**_~~The End~~_ **


End file.
